A painful beginning
by FandomsSchoolwork
Summary: Prince Arthur has been raised from his youth not to trust or to be open with others. From a childhood raised in relative isolation, and fear of expectations he grew up to be bitter and arrogant. This story explores, how their friendship developed in the beginning and chronicles how hard it was for the Prince to learn to be a friend. *Currently on the Poisoned Chalice*
1. Royal beginner

JMJ

Hello, so I decided to write a fanfiction for Merlin since I watched a few episodes, after years of being away and healing from the emotional trauma. XD

This fanfiction is, as usual, an exploration of Merlin and Arthur's friendship, but I wanted to explore the early friendship and how Arthur was really raised to not get attached to anyone. I think you can see this very clearly in Valiant Season 1 Episode 2. Go back and watch it and see what I mean. I think fanfictions gloss over this point too much sometimes. So I wanted to explore the early years and what made Arthur who he was in 1X1.

Some things that you need to understand from the beginning. My fanfictions will never have a Merlin and Arthur romantic relationship. This is because I think they are friends and it is a beautiful and powerful platonic friendship. I am not hating any who thinks in the contrary. I'm just stating my opinion, so please don't ask to make this romantic. Frankly I usually don't write much romance at all in any of my fanfictions even if the couple is straight. I find friendship a more compelling subject!

Peace!

Beth

* * *

 **Men rush toward complexity**

 **but they yearn for simplicity.**

 **They try to be kings**

 **but they dream of being shepherds.**

 **G.K Chesterton**

 **SIX YEARS OLD**

* * *

"A prince does not have friends!"

The terrifying and harsh voice of the castle tutor rang through the stone corridors of Camelot. Startled servants stopped what they were doing and paused over their baskets and work to listen a moment.

The soft voice of the little crown prince said something back too quietly to hear before ending with a squeak when the tutor slammed his fist onto the desk.

"Do you hear me? You do not have friends because they will secretly want your power and your title. No-no I will hear no more of that young master. You can trust no one as a friend, just as an equal as an ally in the great chess game of life!"

The repeated slam of the fist on the desk caused all the eavesdroppers to jump, including the west wing scullery maid who dropped her two empty buckets onto the stone loudly. With a jolt, all of the servants scurried out of the corridor and out of the way. The scullery maid quickly picked up her load and dashed out of the hallway as the old head of the tutor popped out of the library door and glowered down the hall ominously. With a sigh of relief, the servants slowed their paces, returning to their tasks, quietly shaking their heads in commiseration with the young prince.

No one denied that when magic ruled Camelot, the land had been in Chaos. People suffered under the sorcerors' sway. Though Uther was harsh, there were truly not many in the kingdom who would change Uther's tactics for the horror of magic on the land. Yet since the death of the queen, the King had grown more distant and left raising his son to tutors and nurses that he thought would instill the firm, steely resolve a prince of Camelot would need.

The tutor withdrew his head and closed the heavy oak door of the library with a sigh murmuring something about the common rabble. As he turned back into the darkly lit room, his eyes readjusted to the sight of the young prince standing in front of his desk. The little prince's fingers interlaced nervously behind his back, but his bright blue eyes were locked onto the fierce visage of his tutor. This man was a bully, Arthur had realized, and bullies needed to be faced down. So, he set his tiny jaw and frowned up at the old man, in what he hoped was an intimidating glare but was actually more of a pout.

The tutor returned behind the desk, a physical barrier between him and the crown prince.

"What about playing?" Arthur asked. "Father lets me play with the children of the lords! They're my friends."

The tutor passed a hand over his face wearily and sat back in his chair.

"Sire, have you ever seen your father, AHEM, at balls?"

Arthur scrunched his nose at his tutor's constant clearing of his throat but forced himself to answer."Balls are boring."

"That was not my question."

Arthur bit his lip before responding. "Yes, he is always dancing, and talking to grown-ups. He smiles..."

"Very good. Now a ball is sort of like how a grown-up plays. Ahem. We talk and run around and have fun. Yes, we even smile. Now, does your father have any friends?"

Arthur paused and thought a moment and realized that he couldn't think of any. His little face fell, and he looked at the toes of his leather boots. A long red string was lying between two tiles of stone and Arthur tried to focus on it.

"No Arthur, your father has no friends. He has playmates and allies. People he can use for a while so he smiles and plays nice until he can use them. He knows that he cannot trust them and so he has no friends."

"Not even Gaius?"

"Oh, ESPECIALLY not the court physician. He knows a lot about your father, aHEM and so your father keeps him close. To watch him, as he watches over the dragon in the cave below."

Arthur decided right then that he didn't like his father's way. If you can't have friends, why bother playing nice with them. Why did he have to fake a smile? Why did he have to pretend to be something he was not? Arthur knew he was little, but he knew that he wanted to be honest with himself.

"Ahem, do you understand sire?" The tutor asked in his harsh and worn voice.

"I understand." Arthur looked up and said with a resolve that startled the tutor.

"Very well then, let us return to your history lesson."

Arthur walked back to his chair by the fireplace where his heavy textbooks sat. But as he slid up onto his seat and pulled the heavy book down the wheels in his brain were turning.

Arthur understood that his father was deceitful. Arthur realized that he could not have any friends. So Arthur understood that if he couldn't have any friends, he wouldn't bother trying to be nice to ANYBODY.

* * *

 **TWELVE YEARS OLD**

It was the feast of De'laya, an old folk tradition in Camelot where the townspeople would gather together for a mummers parade and dance at the winter solstice. Local men carefully designed masks of different animals and would on the night of De'laya scurry about town in a long parade, accompanied by flute playing bird masked men. From square to square they'd run, lighting lanterns and singing loudly, keeping everyone awake until they'd throw down coins and food to send them away and make them quiet. Shopkeepers would stay open late and vendors would roll out carts peddling their wears to people who wanted to watch the parade, despite the late hour.

This was a parade for commoners.

"Come on! Don't be such a stick in the mud Arthur! We're going to have lots of fun! Come on, I even heard that one of the dancers wears a mask made of a dragon and it breathes real fire!" Young Eoin Maynard, Arthur's closest...playmate, was laying on top of a rock in the training fields where the two of them had just been badgering each other with swords minutes before.

"I don't know Eoin. Father won't permit it." Arthur was laying directly below the large boulder, using its height to block the afternoon sun. Though it was winter, it wasn't too cold to spend time outdoors.

"Your father is the king, and it would be wrong to disobey him directly." Eoin stated.

"Exactly, so drop it will you?"

"But if you don't ask him directly, he can't tell you no. If he can't tell you no then even if you get caught, you weren't disobeying him directly now were you?"

Arthur reflected on the thought as he watched the gray streaky cloud stretch over the winter sky desperately. As if it were clawing out at something.

"I suppose not, but..." Arthur knew his father had directly told him not to leave his chambers after dark, and this would qualify. He really would be breaking a direct order...

A large gray shape suddenly descended, and Arthur let out a howl of laughter as Eoin threw himself down, pinning the prince down.

"So. Will you come? Or will you be a girl's petticoat?!"

Arthur laughed and wrestled himself free of his thin and spry little friend.

"All right. I'll come."

A few hours later.

Arthur wished he hadn't come. It had started out so wonderfully. Arthur and Eoin had convinced their fathers to allow them to camp out in the great hall for the night hosting their own pretend feast and sleeping on blankets spread beneath the throne. It was the closest they'd get to camping for a while.

Father was too protective Arthur out of the reach of the castle guards. Three guards were posted outside the doors to protect them, but the boys had offered them the heavy wine that had been left from the adult's feast a few hours earlier. Soon two of the guards went to sleep while a third stood guard. It wasn't hard to get past the one when he went to relieve himself around the corner.

Using ropes, the two boys let themselves into the courtyard and dashing into the stables they threw on the primitive clothes they had bought from the laundry maid. Only a few minutes later and they were in the streets of Camelot. At first, the festival was happy and lively. Little street plays were performed by talented puppet theatres. Troubadours sang emotional ballads and acrobats performed dazzling feats.

The boys were drunk with the atmosphere and swept up with the crowd they slowly made their way further into the dregs of the city. Finally, Arthur's eyes saw what they had been seeking. A group of men in intricate animals masks snuck past the alleyway they were in. Tugging on Eoin's sleeve the two ran up the street, their soft leather shoes matching the beat of the flutes that hauntingly played.

Arthur found himself at the edge of the parade and standing next to a man in a rabbit mask. Tugging at his sleeve Arthur called out loudly over the music.

"Excuse me, is this where the Mummers dance is going to be?"

The man turned and leaned into his face. Horrible smell of ale washed over Arthur.

"AYE little mastah!"

He pulled the two boys forward into the crowd and shouted: "take a look!"

The De'laya festival was a lot more brutal and coarse than it had appeared from the castle walls last year. The dancers were almost all drunk and harshly sang up at the houses. In one particular square, no one threw any money or food down to quiet them. So some of the dancers began to kick in the doors, and the crowd of peasant pushed up against Arthur and Eoin forcing them to watch up close the terrified homeowners open up their windows and throw down trinkets to quiet them.

The dancers then fought, punched and brawled over the scattered coins before hooting and hollering onward.

Eoin pulled Arthur out of the crowd, and they clung to a doorframe as they watched the drunken rabble pass.

"Let's go home, Arthur," Eoin said in a nervous shaken voice.

A cold voice stopped them in their tracks.

"There you two are."

Arthur was not sure he was more relieved or horrified that a castle guard found them.

The two of them were marched like guilty criminals straight back into the castle. Arthur felt tempted to try and cajole the guards saying if they didn't tell his father they wouldn't get in trouble for letting them escape. But Arthur was too proud to try, and the guards had too strong a sense of duty.

A thirty minutes later they were back in the castle sitting in the great hall where they would be punished in the morning.

"Don't worry," Eoin said lightly. "I'll tell them it was my idea."

Arthur gave a pained smile because he knew Eoin was going to be taking the blame anyway. But he tried to say, "Oh, no jokingly. I'm the Prince. It was my idea.

The next day Eoin was strongly chastised, and Arthur averted his gaze as he stood in his father's shadow. The loud, angry voice of his father was a loud whirr in his ears, but he glanced up to see Eoin's friendly eyes glance up at him, sad but not angry. What was even worse was Lord Maynard embarrassed in front of the court and bowing low before the king. He was allowed to excuse himself from the court and return to his fortress sooner than planned. Eoin was led out of the castle, and Arthur didn't get to say goodbye to him before he left. As the Maynards left the great hall, Arthur let out a slight sigh of relief. It was almost over.

Then the three guards who had been placed on duty were called in. The King fairly growled at them and stripped them of their duties. The requests of the men for leniency or administrative leave or suspension were ignored, and Arthur watched as the faces of the men crumpled at his father.

Guards are supposed to guard, and letting kids get by you was a serious problem, but Arthur could not see how sacking them would solve anything.

 _This is what I get for getting close to someone,_ Arthur decided. Getting close was a problem. Making friends made people suffer. Any other kid would have gotten spanked, grounded or whipped. But he was never touched, everyone around him suffered. _So, I won't let anyone that I care about be around me._

* * *

Okay, I'll admit that this first chapter was a bit depressing, and we didn't get to see any Merlin, but I hope it sets the tone for what this story will be. Please leave a review or shoot me a message if you have ideas or want to talk. I love modifying stories based on people's suggestions. I'll try to update soon but I am busy in college.

Beth


	2. Meeting Morgana

**JMJ**

 **Alrighty! Second chapter here. I hope it's to y'all's satisfaction. Though I haven't introduced Merlin yet, I hope that you are picking up the references to people who shaped Arthur into who he is when he met Merlin. Childhood friend who is skinny and adventurous, tutor who calls it like it is etc. All of these people would have reminded Arthur of them when he met Merlin I really truly believe that in Merlin, arthur found the first real and lasting connection with someone. He was intimidated by his father, sort of competitive and intimidated by Morgana's assertiveness, and really wasn't allowed to have friends. Surely all of that is what made Arthur so accepting of Merlin's rude and improper behavior. I have also known many young men who are feeling and kind but who didn't have close parental bonds, siblings to rough house with, and they generally expressed their emotions and affection like Arthur through pranks and light physical attacks. I once heard a woman loudly declare that any man who is not emotionally developed enough to talk about his feelings was an overgrown man-child and should not be allowed to hold any position of power. Frankly I think this woman had her own problems but I think she is very wrong! There is no shame in being less emotional or sensitive, that's just a part of who you are and you should never let anyone change that. Anyway, enjoy!**

Beth

* * *

 **12 Years Old**

Arthur lay back on his bed, arms crossed beneath his head and gazing up at the tapestry than hung over the frame. A knight, arrayed in shining mail was fighting a fierce-some crawling beast with a ribbon like tongue that wreathed around the warrior's head. The warrior was making a bellicose shout as he fought for his life. Suddenly a voice carried through Arthur's room, seeming to come from the shouting knight.

"Arthur!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and continued to look at the tapestry.

"Arthur Pendragon!"

The prince snorted at the sight of the knight apparently yelling in anger at him, but the smirk was wiped off his face by a shirt landing on his head. His tutor was standing at the foot of his bed, doing his best impersonation of a boiling pot.

"Your manservant told me that you refused to rouse yourself and get dressed. The young Lady Morgana will be arriving soon and it is your duty to welcome her with your father!"

Arthur knew he was being childish and stubborn and a part of him was angry at himself for that but mostly he was tired of running around playing his father's pet diplomacy tool. _Here's my 12 year old son, isn't he so adorable when he thinks he's a knight and talks about honor and fighting in tournaments?_ He'd had enough for the week and was getting tired of it.

"Remind me why I should care again?"

"And remind me when you're going to grow up?"

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows, angered that he had been called out for his behavior.

"Are you still alive?" He cringed internally as he finished, realizing how childish it sounded coming out.

The old tutor, shoulders now further stooped with age just smiled a sly griin and said in response.

"Are you still a child?"

"When are you going to treat me with the damn respect I deserve!"

"When you actually earn my damn respect."

With that scathing comment the pair of trousers landed on the pillow beside him, one leg trailing over his face, and the tutor stormed out.

It was unacceptable for anyone to speak to a member of the royal family in such a way, but in reality Arthur needed someone to talk to him with such brutal honesty, and he knew that. His father was emotionally cut off from him at all times, as he knew a king must be. The servants treated him with kid gloves, tip toeing around him like he might throw something at them or order them arrested. He was beginning to turn into a little tyrant, and even at his young age, Arthur was aware that without his tutor he might turn out to be a rotten person. This created a strange power dynamic where he wanted the tutor to chastise him but he wanted to push his boundaries and punish the tutor for trying to reform him.

Arthur slunk out of bed with the wounded pride of a kicked dog

He donned a tunic with the crest of Camelot and made his way down to the courtyard. The king was already standing at the base of the steps when Arthur descended behind him.

"Father."

"Oh Arthur, excellent. I was hoping you would be here in time. I am relying on you to help the Lady Morgana feel welcome."

"Oh? Do I know her?"

Uther looked down in shock at his son who was squinting in the bright morning sun.

"Morgana...you know her. You've met before, surely. She's the daughter of Sir Gorlois and the Lady Vivienne. Sir Gorlois is one of my oldest friends and you WILL treat his daughter with respect. Especially given what the poor child has gone through."

Arthur frowned and turned to face his father, to ask exactly WHAT had she gone through when the trumpets blared announcing the arrival of the entourage. Four camelot royal guards rode around a sorrel mare with a small thin girl clinging to reins tightly.

Arthur remembered her suddenly. THAT Morgana. Last winter solstice he had shown her and a group of young royals about the castle and she had gotten in trouble for storming up to a guard watch tower despite the protests of the other young ones. She clambered out onto the edge to look out on the city below, but once at the top, she had become afraid but refused to let the other children help her down. Arthur, being the oldest and 11 years old was naturally expected to get her so he went out on the ledge and sat with her until she got the nerve to climb down. Looking at her pinched and worried face Arthur was suddenly transported back to that moment.

The horses entered the center of the courtyard and Uther walked forward with long strides. He held out his arms and the dark haired girl reached out her arms to him. With exceeding tenderness that surprised Arthur, having only seen his father be strict and harsh, Uther gently helped the girl down.

Morgana gave a shy smile up at Uther, but as she embraced him her face retreated back into its pinched appearance. Arthur locked eyes with her as she leaned against Uther's shoulder, and was taken aback by the harsh steel he saw in them.

Uther bent down and whispered something into Morgana's ear that Arthur couldn't hear, but her face relaxed a little and she gave him a beaming smile.

Arthur walked down the steps to join them, halted four paces back and bowed low over his right leg, sweeping his right arm up and out.

"Lady Morgana, it is a pleasure to see you again."

Uther led the girl over, keeping his arm around her shoulders firmly.

"Morgana, this is my son Arthur. You've met before I am sure."

"I do. He was kind enough to show me around last year. He and Camelot have not changed one bit." She said vaguely looking around the courtyard, but Arthur suspected she was actually looking beyond everything she saw.

Uther beamed the largest smile Arthur had ever seen him give and was seriously beginning to wonder if his father was feeling alright.

"Well," Uther declared, "I must attend to some matters of state but tonight we will eat together and Arthur please show Morgana to her room."

"Yes, father."

 _STAYING?_

* * *

Arthur quickly learned from Gaius that Sir Gorlois had been killed and it had been the wish of her family that Uther be her legal guardian. That meant that the young girl was to be the ward of the king and a new member of the household. All in all, Arthur felt that it was a pleasant change. His father smiled and laughed, for the first time in a long time, and treated her like his own daughter. The servants doted on her and found her strong opinions and firm will endearing. They were constantly talking about her in the halls with such admiration and sympathy that he had to admit to himself that he was actually growing jealous. The jealousy was fleeting and he didn't hold it against her. After all, his jealousy was his problem not hers. After a few days of allowing Morgana to settle in, Arthur began to appear outside her door every day to invite her to a new activity, horse riding, sword fighting, falcon training.

The first time that he knocked on her door and asked her to join him was a little difficult to get her to agree.

"Hello. I was wondering if you might like to come riding with me? The stablemaster has already saddled our horses."

"Why did he saddle it if I didn't agree to come?"

"Well he did not know if you would I just told him to."

"And why is that?"

"Well, I..." Arthur struggled to form his thoughts he was so overwhelmed with this girl's seeming uncaring attitude. "I thought that after everything, you'd like a distraction. I mean girls like to go riding too...right?"

Suddenly Arthur wasn't so sure. He had never really spent much time around girls his own age.

Suddenly Morgana softly laughed and turned back around to go in her room.

"Let me get my cloak and then yes, I'll ride with you."

"So girls do like riding then?"

"Yes Arthur we do."

* * *

It did not take long after spending weeks together for Arthur to realize that Morgana was a troubled person. He had often heard the expression a troubled soul before, yet had never truly understood it until this time. He did enjoy her company, and having someone to talk to was such a relief. Yet she had a horrible competitive spirit that Arthur thought was quite unusual in a woman, and he didn't like competing with her in public on the odd chance that he should lose to her. Which, he had to admit, was quite often.

Her troubled nature would surface sometimes around Uther. He didn't fully understand it but he took it to be due to the death of her father. She would grow cold, isolated and irritable at unexpected times, drawing off to secluded places to be by herself. Most hurtful of all to Arthur was that she kept secrets. Morgana had things in her past that she would never share, and Arthur sensed that this would never change. He yearned to talk to someone openly and honestly, but when she only listened patiently and refused to respond then he'd feel a bit hurt.

Why couldn't she share with him? Why wouldn't ANYONE talk deeply with him?

These thoughts and more were slowly mulling in Arthur's mind and he could not shake the feeling. So, taking up a random book from a shelf he set out for the library in search of his tutor. They had not spoken in weeks. He taking a break in school while the weather was pleasant to get combat training and after their argument during Morgana's arrival they had not even crossed paths in the corridors. Arthur needed to speak with him, he needed someone to help him sort out his thoughts.

He would use the pretence of a question about the book to talk with him, and then he'd get the down to earth conversation that he knew he needed.

Arthur pushed open the heavy library doors and went in search of the corner his tutor always inhabited, surrounded by tall piles of books and rolling hills of scroll parchment. Arthur saw the back of his head peeping over the top of his chair.

" I need your help with some-."

The words died on Arthur's lips at the sight of his tutor's pale visage. Arthur felt his guts twist within him at the sight of those wrinkled hands clutched around a book, and the bald pate of his head reflecting the light from the window as it flopped forward.

He was dead. The questions that had been burning in Arthur's chest froze solid as stone, and deep inside he felt a part of him die too.

* * *

The next few minutes were a blur. He rushed to Gaius' quarters, dashing through the busy courtyard, unconcerned with his unprincely appearance as he streaked down the corridors. As he ran, as the walls around him rushed by, the colors began to blur and mix from the hot tears filling his vision. He was a servant, just a teacher who gave horrid work and even more horrid lessons. Why was it so horrible that he died?

Arthur arrived at Gaius' door and quickly wiped away the tears with his shirt sleeve. He rapped impatiently on the door until it swung inwards.

"Prince Arthur, what's wrong?"

"Gaius, I need you to-" Arthur's throat thickened and he found it impossible to continue.

"Yes?"

"My tutor is in the library, and I think..."

Gaius' eyes widened and he led Arthur to a seat.

Before he had even touched the chair tears began to stream down his face silently.

Gaius pressed a cup into his hands and rushed out the door with promises of returning.

Arthur wasn't sure how long he has there, but even in the privacy of an empty room he refused to acknowledge his tears with weeping and so they silently fell, dotting his tunic with wet spots.

Arthur wasn't thirsty, or even hungry but the cool drink helped clear his throat. Catching his grieving reflection in a mirror Arthur shook his head roughly, shaking his mind clear and downed the cup at once.

Just then the door slowly swung open and Gaius entered, his medical kit tucked sadly under one elbow.

"So, he's dead then?" Arthur asked simply. Hoping he sounded if not looked serene.

"Yes sire..." and then "He was a very old man..."

Arthur looked up and cried out in what was a laugh and a sob.

"I'm not a child Gaius, I don't need patronized to."

Gaius approached him directly and pulled out a stool across from Arthur.

"With all due respect sire, you are a child. It is perfectly healthy and natural for you to grieve him. You respected him very much and I know that despite his harsh manner of address, he was very fond of you."

Arthur shot out of his chair equal parts angry for being called grieving, and worried that he was about to break down in tears again.

"Thank you Gaius, for your swift assistance. I shall take my leave now."

Arthur went to walk and found that try as hard as he might he couldn't get his feet to move. He was rooted to the spot. Then tears began to fall, one after another, until Arthur raised his hand and holding his head quietly shook with sobs.

Gaius stood up and placed an understanding hand on the boy's shoulder, giving him something to lean against and waiting with him while he grieved.

* * *

Have any of you ever suddenly been so wracked with grief that you almost find yourself out of body emotionally disconected and amazed at your body for just breaking down in sobs or refusing to move?

Anyway, next chapter Merlin comes in. Although we will continue to have flashback intermittently with the current day Camelot scenes to draw out comparisons in Merlin and Arthur's friendship.

Beth


	3. Prince and the Pauper

Hello! Please enjoy the new chapter. Don't worry, there will still be flashbacks to Arthur's youth. I wanted to get this scene out of my brain and on paper for you guys.

* * *

Embarrassment for a young prince was probably one of the worst emotions imaginable. Humiliation in front of his knights? Even worse.

Arthur had made the mistake of taking up the Lady Morgana on her offer of a horse race early that morning. The air was crisp and fresh, and she appeared at his door demanding a distraction from the gruesome execution of the previous day. Arthur had thought there would be no harm in a light ride together by themselves. How wrong he was. At first, things went well, and the lines creasing Morgana's ivory brow softened as she listened to Arthur talk about past adventures with his men.

"I swear Morgana if I did not know his parents I would swear that Percival is some half-giant from legend."

"What, he even makes you feel small? I did not know it was possible with your ego."

Arthur ignored the snide comment and continued.

"Morgana you should have seen him, there Leon is, penned in by King Brelian's soldiers and Percival staggers up and begins to throw large rocks down into the valley, scattering them like field mice. I wish you could have seen it."

"I would if your father would allow me to fight alongside you."

"You know that he doesn't let you for your protection, he cares about you."

"Does he care so little for you then?" Morgana asked.

Arthur pulled up on the reins and considered the proposition.

"No, I'm just more expendable. What good is a son if he can't defend your kingdom and your honor. You hope he survives, but his potential death is an accepted reality. A daughter...or ward in your case is something a parent can rely on protecting. You've seen how female dogs when they've lost all but one in their pack, guards their last pup with ferocity. You are that surety in Father's life. He knows above all else that he can and will protect you, even if I should die..."

Morgana sniffed indignantly and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Sounds like a poor excuse for me, for men who don't want girls to spoil their fun."

Arthur scoffed at that. "Oh please, Morgana, you're strong and quick for a girl, but no one is intimidated by you."

"Really?"

Arthur knew from the way she said it that he was going to regret ever opening his mouth.

"Well, if that's the case why don't we race back to the westerly fields. Prove who is the better rider."

Arthur tried to think of a fitting excuse, but the words died on his lips. He found himself agreeing to the race. Arthur bent low over the neck of his steed and whipped the reins lightly against the horse's flank, stirring it on. But over to his right, he saw Morgana pulling ahead. As always she seemed to fly with supernatural precision on horseback, and before long was a full two lengths ahead. The westerly fields were nearing fast when Arthur decided to try a desperate maneuver and going for a shortcut he spurred his horse into jumping over a large fallen log. The jump was ill-timed, and his steed pulled back at the last moment rearing on its hind legs and shaking Arthur off. Arthur landed in a pile of dust which filled his nose and lungs, making it nigh impossible to breathe. Morgana pulled alongside him and circled him a moment.

"Are you alright Arthur?

"Not a word out of you Morgana." He gasped raising to his knees.

"Well, I'm afraid it's not me you're going to have to worry about talking." Morgana pointed just beyond the log where Arthur had fallen and there, positioned around dummies and targets were the young knights of Camelot practicing their archery and swordsmanship. Though they turned away the moment Arthur looked up, it was clear that they had seen everything that had happened.

Hot blood flushed Arthur's cheeks, and he desperately wished to be swallowed up by the ground at that moment. You had to command total respect from your men, or they would never trust you in battle. And of all situations, to lose to a woman.

Morgana either did not notice his embarrassment or didn't care, in any case, she sharply said, " Arthur get on your horse before he walks away."

Arthur sourly fetched his horse who had slowly padded off and rode back to Camelot in a foul mood. Careful to avoid making eye contact with the knights who were no doubt laughing. They rode straight to the stable, where Morgana triumphantly jumped off of her steed and threw the reins into the waiting hands of the stable boy.

"I'll see you inside, Arthur, if you can keep up, that is."

Arthur was in too irritated to reply, so he slid off the horse without a word and waved the stablehand away, determined to brush his horse himself. In the dark and dank shade of the stable that reeked of straw and animal life, he carefully removed the saddle and tack from off of the horse's back. Slow stroke after another he wiped the lather off of the horse's hide and brushed the fur down until it was sleek and clean.

The mesmerizing repetition of the activity should have calmed him down, but instead, he found that he was only getting further and further irritated.

He was going to be the king of Camelot, and it was his responsibility to have a loyal band of knights who respected him above all others. Morgana probably knew about that slick patch of mud near the log, and probably wanted him to embarrass himself in front of his men.

Arthur shook his head and threw down the brush into the pail that was hung from the wall.

 _No, you're just projecting your frustration onto her. It wasn't her fault. Go do something to alleviate some anger._

* * *

Arthur got a clean red shirt from his chambers and strapped on a pauldron and his sword, and made his way back to his knights where they were still training in the westerly fields. Many of them looked askance as he approached but continued to hide small smiles. Arthur felt his blood rise in indignation. He knew that he needed to reinforce with his men the idea that Arthur was confident, that he was the alpha dog in their group. A king was ineffective if he couldn't inspire leadership in his men.

"Well come on, don't stop sparring...or have you been lazing about all day?"

Leon sat, one leg over a bale of straw, "What would you have us do my lord?"

"Do? I would have you spar me, and show me that you are as good clearly think yourselves to be. I assume that is the reason for your contented smiles, eh?"

Arthur threw down a gauntlet onto the ground.

"Who will fight me first?"

All of the knights awkwardly shifted and exchanged glances.

"I mean what I say, I want to see how each of you is improving. Now, who will fight me?"

Finally, Sir Adaon stepped forward and accepted the challenge. They chose to fight with shortsword and shield and set a 20-foot circle they were not to exit. Arthur rotated his sword arm, flexing and loosening the shoulder, elbow, and wrist as the sword danced ominously in his grip.

"Don't hold back Sir Adaon, I certainly shall not."

The challenger grimaced and readied his shield for the coming onslaught.

"Begin!" Shouted Sir Percival.

Their swords came together with a sharp clash and slid up past each other until their shields rammed together. Arthur growled and pulled his guard back a few inches to ram it firmly into Adaon's shield, knocking him off balance.

Within 2 minutes Arthur had him in submission on the ground, and the watching knights made sounds of approval at Arthur's ferocity.

One by one Arthur sparred each knight individually almost losing to Percival for his brute strength and Leon for his keen tactics on the battlefield, but in the end victorious. As his men cheered him, Arthur felt his confidence and spirits re-lifted, and when one of them suggested they practice throwing knives and archery the group merrily agreed and made their way to the courtyard.

* * *

The side courtyard was flanked by the tall, steady walls of Camelot. Which hovered like a mother hen over the young knights under her wing. The sun had just passed high noon at this point and sparrows darted out from eaves and holes back to other shaded spots, avoiding the sun's bright burning rays. Arthur was getting cocky, he had to admit, having overcome his early discomfort his men responded to each of his daring exploits with greater and greater enthusiasm until they were acting like a bunch of rowdy schoolboys. Heady with the sense of self-satisfaction, Arthur for a moment could almost hear his tutor angrily yelling at him in his old study for behaving in a manner unworthy of a future king.

"My lord, where are you. Return to this moment in time if you please, that boy's brought the targets. "

With that, the spell was broken, and the tutor's voice floated way in whispers on the wind.

Arthur turned to Sir Idrisyll, one of his father's trusted men and one of the few veterans in the group, with a wane smile. "And it is about time too."

The boy in question was an errand boy, a page in the royal house. Arthur was as familiar with his face as a family member but knew as much about him as a stranger.

"You, boy. Go and set up the targets, will you? Fifty paces from us."

The boy scurried carrying the giant target on his back like a cumbersome turtle who was too small for his shell.

"Oh bloody hell," Arthur heard one of the knights swear under his breath. "He's an idiot."

Arthur turned to see that the boy was, in fact, an idiot and had placed the targets directly in the sun.

He rolled his eyes and stepped forward, calling out "Where's the target?"

Morris...that was the boy's name...now he remembered. Arthur remembered hearing him chatting once happily with his sister who was a kitchen maid in the corridor...he stepped to the side to listen to them happily ramble before a knot of servants interrupted them in the hall, and they all happily embraced and began chatting excitedly about plans for the evening. This boy had friends. The thought rankled Arthur, and he couldn't help making the boy a little bit more miserable.

"There Sir?" He pointed nervously.

"It's into the sun?"

"It's not that bright."

Arthur was taken aback. Did he just correct me? A sharp retort came to his lips directly.

"A bit like you then," Arthur said to the uproarious laughter of the knights behind him. Except for Percival, Leon, and Sir Idrisyll who stood apart watching silently.

Morris' face fell, and he looked at his feet.

"I'll put the target on the other end shall I sir?

One of the older men leaned into Arthur's ear, "Teach him a lesson, go on boy."

"This'll teach him," Arthur said as he hoisted a knife up in the air and took aim.

Arthur let the dagger fly with deadly accuracy, landing just shy of center. The impact startled Morris who glanced over the target.

"Hey, hang on!"

"Don't stop!" Arthur said laughing now.

"Here?" The boy squeaked hopefully.

"I told you to keep moving!" Arthur and many of the knights were rolling in laughter, and the power he held over them was rather intoxicating. Arthur threw a few more knives as he moved.

"Come on run!"

Arthur turned to his men and gleefully called out, "Do you want some moving target practice?"

Finally, Morris stumbled, and the target turned shield rolled out of his hands and onto the ground where a scrawny dark-haired boy stopped it with his boot.

Arthur was satisfied that he had adequately embarrassed the boy for his snide back talk and was about to walk back to the castle with his men when the dark-haired boy spoke...to Arthur.

"Hey, come on. That's enough." The boy was probably a late teen, maybe 19 or even 20, but his thin arms and bony frame stuck out conspicuously from his shabby clothes. His voice, however, was strangely smooth and calm.

"What?" Arthur demanded coming closer, also subtly signaling the stranger to leave now before the situation got worse. After all, surely a citizen of Camelot knew that he was the prince. To his utter amazement, the boy not only did not back away but smiled confidently and replied.

"You've had your fun, my friend."

That word struck hard in Arthur's chest, and a burst of indignation flared up inside him.

A prince does not have ANY friends. He could hear his father and tutor repeating in his head, and the memory made Arthur clench his jaw in annoyance.

"Do I know you?"

The boy must be remarkably thick, thought Arthur, because he not only did not take the hint to skedaddle but he actually held out his hand in friendship.

"Er, I'm Merlin."

"So I DON'T know you..."

"No."

"Yet you called me ...friend?"

"That was my mistake."

Finally, Arthur thought, an apology.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Yeah, I could never have a friend who was such an ass."

Merlin turned to walk away, and Arthur called out, "Or I one who could be so stupid."

Merlin stopped, pivoted and turned back, still unafraid of Arthur.

"Tell me, Merlin, Do you know how to walk on your knees?"

"No."

Arthur smirked, feeling even cockier that he now had the upper hand in the argument.

"Would you like me to show you how?" Now, here Arthur expected Merlin to fully back down, apologize and scuttle away embarrassed but to his utter shock, Merlin responded with a threat.

"I wouldn't if I were you." A bald-faced honest reply not colored by any fear or respect to his title. For once, Arthur didn't know how to respond. If he had looked any stronger than his thin frame appeared Arthur might have backed away, his fierce steely-eyed glared was so impressive. The young prince could hear the entire courtyard audibly stiffen and gasp. He was in front of his subjects and needed to teach this insolent boy a lesson.

"Why, what are you going to do to me?" Arthur taunted.

"You have no idea."

Arthur widened his arms spread eagle and took a step back.

"Be my guest. Come on...come oooooon."

This thin boy, Merlin actually had the nerve to take a feeble obvious shot at Arthur, which he deflected, grabbing and twisting his arm behind his back.

"I'll have you thrown in jail for that," Arthur growled. Though he wasn't sure if it was because he had called out his bullying, called him a friend, or actually dared to speak to him like anyone else.

"Who do you think you are, the king?" Merlin winced.

"No, I'm his son. Arthur." With that, he knocked him down to his knees as promised and had two guards haul him off to the jail.

The look of disdain and surprise on the boy's face aggravated Arthur because it was a look that said he felt superior to Arthur, that he was surprised anyone who acted that way could be a prince.

After that strange spectacle, Arthur and the knights decided to end their training and broke to different parts of the castle for their solitary pursuits.

Arthur found himself in his chambers staring at the crest of Camelot displayed on a woven tapestry on the wall of his room. With a hiss of annoyance, he pulled down the fabric. Letting it pile onto the floor.

Who did that Merlin think he was.

 _Come on now that's enough. You've had enough fun my friend._

Arthur threw his sword down onto his table and stormed out of the room. Desperately trying to block out the aching gnaw he felt in his chest.

* * *

 **(Dives out of a pile of mid term exams. )**

So, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I am quite possibly dying of sleep deprivation for school and a full time job.

Please leave a review if you enjoyed or had any thoughts to share!

 **(Sinks back under the piles of papers)**

 _Love,_

 _Beth._


	4. A Creeping Feeling

**Well hello again!**

 **I really shouldn't be posting another chapter too soon, but your reviews are so addicting that it quite literally is drawing me away from my studies. Hopefully, I'll make it through okay! Thanks for all your kind words and reviews.**

 **To answer what a few of you were saying about Arthur being a bully and prat at the beginning of the show, I'm not defending this behavior, it is childish and WAS wrong. However, I do not think that Arthur's morals or standards changed much throughout the show. Most people would say that Arthur's opinion of peasants and servants increased with his marriage of Gwen and better treatment of Merlin.**

 **I don't disagree that he became more confident in showing this compassion, but in the literal FOURTH episode of the show, he is willing to die for a servant who was loyal to him. When he rode off to Ealdor, he exhibited the same compassion, and again at the labyrinth of Gedref. If he DID have these morals to guide him why was his general behavior so bad? This story just explores the very human struggles that a young man emotionally isolated, pampered and spoiled would undergo. Merlin brought out the human side of Arthur, the part that was already there but hidden under the layers of being a future king, prince, pressured by his father. This is why platonic friendships are so important for people. They develop us in a rich and mutually fulfilling way.**

* * *

Steam billowed and curled out of the pot of hot steaming water just brought into Arthur's chamber. The thin vapors curled into little lazy S shapes before fading away to the sound of the audibly hissing water. Like a ship breaking through a wave the prince thrust his face in the middle of that warm steam and looked at his reflection in the mirror through the milky color currently surrounding his eyes. A nasal complaint probably due to the trees in bloom and casting their pale dust on everything had plagued Arthur all day after the tournament. The reception was long over, and Arthur had dismissed that troublesome oaf Merlin home.

Arthur groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose at the thought of his new manservant. What was his father thinking? Someone saves your life you don't make them your servant even if they are well paid. A gift of gold, a new house, why even a new horse would be preferable. Arthur closed his eyes and remembered their official first day as master and servant yesterday.

* * *

It was late morning, and Merlin scurried up the stairs, a breakfast piled onto a pewter plate in one hand and freshly laundered clothing balanced on the other.

"Good morning Sire!"

Arthur was already awake and sitting at his desk, his fingers drumming impatiently.

"For the future, Merlin, I expect you to come and awaken me at sun up exactly." Arthur snapped.

Merlin frowned as he slid the plate in front of the dour prince before turning with a noticeable sigh to turn down Arthur's bed linens.

"And what time should I get up then?" He asked.

Arthur paused, an apple unbitten in hand and watched Merlin critically for a moment.

"Well, I am no expert at calculations Merlin, but I imagine you would need to be up BEFORE sun up."

"Before!?" Merlin asked incredulously, "When am I supposed to get some sleep?"

Arthur had never heard a servant complain about an inability to get sleep before, what a ridiculous notion.

"You're not the Lady Morgana, Merlin; you don't need to get beauty sleep."

Arthur bit into the apple, the sweet honey taste erupting over his taste buds. He closed his eyes a moment in ecstasy to enjoy the flavor and was surprised when they re-opened to see Merlin standing with hands on hips staring at him.

"So, I'm supposed to go to bed long after you and awaken before you is that it?" Merlin asked.

"Yes Merlin," Arthur said in between bites of the apple, "that's what SERVANTS do."

Merlin raised his eyebrows and turned back to his work of cleaning up the mess Arthur had created around his room. Merlin went to pick up the fallen tapestry of Camelot from where Arthur had pulled it down the night before, but Arthur just growled.

"Leave it."

Merlin shrugged and went back to cleaning. Arthur watched the thin, lanky boy work for a minute, the wheels of his mind turning quickly. He suddenly spoke out, his fingers steepled against his mouth.

"Merlin, I do not know why my father chose you for this position. You saved my life and deserve a reward." Here Merlin spun about, a dirty towel in his hand dripping water onto the tile.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at it until Merlin's gaze followed Arthur and he quickly returned the sopping rag into the bucket it had come.

"Yes, as I was saying. I am grateful for what you did, and it is clear that you have no idea of how to be a manservant so I will happily free you from your obligation and give you a small reward for your service to the crown."

"Didn't the king say..." Merlin began before Arthur cut him off by standing and cross the room towards him.

"I'll tell him that you were not cut out for the life of a servant and requested to be dismissed. Thereby you do not offend my father by outright refusing the request." Arthur eagerly watched the young man's face as a myriad of emotions flit across his features. He wanted to see what he thought of the offer; he needed to see him accept it. Arthur didn't know why. He even surprised himself by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small bag of gold and setting it on the cabinet that Merlin was cleaning with a bang. The deep blue eyes looked over at the gold bag and a flicker of something passed in them, though Arthur could not tell what. This boy would leave his service. , It was better that he leave now Arthur thought. Everyone goes eventually. Better spare the pai-no better to save the inconvenience.

Merlin picked up one of the coins that had slipped out of the mouth of the bag between two thin fingers and scrutinized it, turning it between them slowly in thought.

Arthur realized that he was holding his breath, and didn't know why! He hated not knowing why.

"Well?!" Arthur demanded, "Do we have a deal?"

Merlin's eyes locked back onto the prince's and put the coin back in the bag.

"No, thank you sire, but I'm happy staying where I am," Merlin said.

Arthur could have spit fire just then. Not accept money? What did he want? He did not like Arthur and Arthur did not like him so why stay? Did he have some agenda or plan?

"Why not?" Arthur tried to retort but it came out strangled and childish. "You could make more money studying under Gaius and replacing him upon his death surely.

The young face of the clumsy rustic before him took on a strange firm pallor as if possessed with a sudden fortitude.

"I am quite satisfied where I am sire. But thank you."

With that, Merlin turned about gathering up the dirty laundry piled at the foot of the bed with a strange calm. He rose back up and met Arthur's gaze with firmness.

"Will you require anything else this morning sire?"

Arthur was flummoxed, still staring at the bag of gold on the top of the cabinet.

"Sire?"

Arthur had never had a permanent manservant before. Many young pages were sent in the morning to tend to specific duties, but since the death of his tutor, Arthur had largely made himself so disagreeable that he allowed servants to not interact with him other than their cleaning or official duties. Sure, most knights had a young page or servant, but he never had. Arthur liked it that way; he NEEDED it that way because he did not know how to interact with a servant. They are not friends, a prince had no friends, they were not peers like lords and ladies, but Arthur could never bring himself to act like they were part of the furniture. He had seen many a lord or lady walk past the castle staff as if they were not there. He had seen a servant choking with Black Lung in the corner of a great hall as his mistress danced away in a ball or flung her wrap at him to be carried. Arthur could not do that, and so he pushed them away. Preferring to do all but the menial tasks himself and preferring different servants to do various tasks so as not to grow attached. Now here was a boy who was refusing to leave, even with the enticement of money! Arthur subconsciously determined that he needed to push away this servant now to avoid any emotional attachment. All of these ruminations were done on a subconscious level and all Arthur felt was a firm determination to get rid of Merlin, which he translated as dislike.

"Well," Arthur said with a smirk, "At noon I'll be doing weapons practice. Bring a set of armor from the armory along with two swords, maces, and lances. Don't be late."

Merlin nodded in a slight bow and swept out of the room leaving Arthur standing in the center of the floor alone. Well, if he won't take money, Arthur thought, I'll make him so miserable that he has to leave.

* * *

Later that day, as planned, Arthur had Merlin don the heavy armor and then proceed to whack him mercilessly with the blunt training sword.

"Ready?"

"Would it make any difference if I said no?"

Arthur smirked.

"Not really. BODY! SHIELD! BODY! SHIELD!

Merlin weakly tried to prepare for each strike.

"HEAD!" Arthur ordered before whacking the poor servant on the top of his helmet which rung and shook about his head.

"Head? OW!" Merlin weakly protested.

Arthur laughed lightly and realized that though he was trying to chase the servant off, he was actually enjoying it.

"Come on Merlin; you're not even trying."

Merlin stumbled forward off balance, and Arthur nimbly spun around poking him in the back.

"Ow, I AM!" Merlin said.

"Once more! To the left, to the right, HEAD!"

"OW!"

"Come on Merlin; I've got a tournament to win."

"Can we stop now, please? Ow, shield, body..."

Arthur once again rapped Merlin over the head, and the blow sent the thin servant toppling backward onto the ground with the helmet rolling off.

With a slight tinge of admiration, Arthur stepped over the prone figure and said teasingly, " You're braver than you look, most servants collapse after the first blow."

"Is it over?" Merlin said hopefully, a look of pain washing over his pale face.

"That was just the warmup. How's your macework coming along?"

* * *

Arthur finally returned to the present moment in time and realized with a start that the steaming water had long since stopped steaming and was instead just a lukewarm bucket of water. The bucket was pushed aside, fresh linen was used to dry his face, and Arthur clambered wearily into his bed. The cool linen sheets were like soothing balm onto his sweat and armor chapped skin. His mind was still racing and turning. Why wouldn't Merlin take the gold? Every other servant probably would have. Arthur snorted as he thought, he's probably too simple to know what's good for him. Although he inwardly knew that Merlin could not be simple. Although why must he always seek to engage in jovial small talk? Arthur thought with indignation. Why just that morning at the beginning of the tournament Merlin was struggling to help Arthur into his armor and was making light conversation.

* * *

"You do know the tournament starts today?" Arthur snapped mindlessly at the bumbling efforts of his manservant.

"Yes sire," Merlin said annoyed as he struggled to afix the buckle of the Gorget.

The roar of the crowds beyond the wall was swelling with anticipation, and Arthur nervously chewed his lower lip. His father expected him to win; he needed to win this. How could a prince lead a people if he refused to fight in tournaments? Yet, how could he lead his knights in battle if he lost?

"You nervous?" Merlin asked innocently still focused on his work.

A spike of fear shot through Arthur's stomach at the question. Someone else acknowledging it made it so. He was supposed to be an insurmountable wall, a stoic ruler, placid and immovable. Like the mountains north of Camelot.

"I don't get nervous," Arthur said through clenched teeth, desperately trying to retain his nerve.

Merlin, like the total simpleton he was blithely asked, "Really, I thought everyone got nervous?"

Of course, he was nervous he was terrified. This was the largest tournament he had as yet competed in, and needed to be completely focused. Arthur felt his adrenaline raise along with his temper, so he shot back angrily at his servant.

"Will you shut up!?"

Merlin rolled his eyes and went back to work ignoring Arthur's temper.

* * *

Arthur rolled over and blew out the candle, immediately casting his room into a rich black, only illuminated with thin rays of moonlight that pierced the thick glass of his window.

The strange thing about the night is that things which are clear in the daytime get thrown into confusion while things that are impossible to reason out with the distraction of the day becomes crystal clear at night.

These thoughts turned in his mind as he tossed and turned in an attempt to get to sleep. Suddenly he realized why. That fool Merlin had left the heavy wool blankets stacked at the foot of his bed, preventing him from stretching out and gettting rest. Arthur kicked the blankets off the side and thought with a smile of how Merlin would have to re-fold them in the morning, that would teach him.

Satisfied, Arthur raised an arm behind him and rested his head against it, feeling his own pulse in his arm. It was still beating too fast.

Unsurprising given the stress of the day, Arthur thought. No, but what had become clear to him in the dark was why he was becoming more annoyed with Merlin with each passing hour.

Earlier in the day, in the early afternoon, Arthur had succeeded in besting the first few knights placed against him. Merlin stood off to the side cheering him on happily and Arthur had to fight the urge to smile as he walked off the field of victory when Merlin bounded around the corner with the grace of a new born colt and gave him a lopsided grin.

As Merlin slowly untied the many armor buckles, Arthur watched out on the field as Knight Valiant conquered his enemies flawlessly. The man's technique was impressive, and his aggression was admirable. Though, Arthur thought he fought with a brutality unbecoming of a knight.

Merlin's irritating voice cut through his reverie.

"Knight Valiant looks pretty handy with a sword."

Arthur simply nodded in agreement, and went back to ruminating. Not long after Valiant too exited the field making his way with his servant to his tent.

The fiercesome knight paused before the prince and called out, "May I offer my congratulations on your victory today?"

"Likewise." Arthur replied.

"I hope to see you at the reception this evening." With a respectful nod, the knight marched off, the bright yellow of his tunic fading in with the colorful tents pitched in the field.

Arthur for some reason very much did not like that man. Perhaps it was because he was a competitive fighter...he just didn't like him. Almost as if speaking his thoughts, Merlin said matter of factly over his shoulder.

"Creeeeep."

The statement was so simple, so personal and funny that Arthur snorted in agreement.

Merlin seemed surprised by Arthur's laugh and laughed too, grinning ear to ear.

Arthur turned and made eye contact with Merlin. HE WAS A SERVANT. Arthur had to wrestle himself mentally back into place. This is why he did not have servants, he couldn't interact with people without trying to connect personally. Arthur instantly retreated back to his place as master.

"Uh, for tomorrow you need to repair my shield, wash my tunic, clean my boots, sharpen my sword and polish my chainmail..."

Much to Arthur's relief, the smile fell off Merlin's face.

* * *

Of course, that evening at the reception, Merlin's statement was only confirmed when Valiant was making the most unwelcome advances to the Lady Morgana. That Valiant was going to be a problem. Though honestly, Arthur was more concerned that his attempts to get Merlin to quit had been as yet unsuccessful.

As he finally was slipping off to sleep a lazy thought flit across his mind.

 _If Merlin doesn't quit soon, I might not want him to leave._

* * *

 ** _Welllllllllll I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Although each chapter that I've written is getting about 200 words longer than the last. At this rate, I'll probably end up with an essay per chapter! Two chunks of dialogue were taken directly from episode 1x02 Valiant. I would highly recommend you search Youtube for the channel R4GING CLIPS and look at Merlin S1E2 Part 4. Look at how Arthur's face changed after Merlin said "CREEP" and let me know if you think I did a good job interpreting this part in the story. Please please please do this and let me know what you thought of the chapter._**

 ** _Love,_**

 ** _Beth._**


	5. Mistaken Identity Part 1

**Hey guys,**

 **I hope that you enjoy. I know this chapter is very talking heavy and not alot of action but that's because it is setting the stage for a three or four part episodic adventure and this chapter set the scene.**

 **I put polls on my profile. Please check them out and leave responses. :)**

* * *

"Arthur!"

The curt voice of the King of Camelot penetrated the heavy door to Arthur's chamber, just before the man did. The intrusion on this rather warm and lazy spring day had been so unexpected that the occupants of the chambers had not moved from their previous positions.

The king pushed through both doors, a clear indication that he was either in a dramatic or angry mode which Arthur noticed tended to be one and the same. His red cloak billowed behind him as he stalked through the portal.

The crown prince was at his desk, his quill hovering just above the paper as he stared wide-eyed at his approaching father.

The young man Merlin was currently down on his knees, sleeves rolled up before the desk vainly trying to scrub ink off of the flagstones. Just minutes before Uther's appearance, Arthur had asked Merlin to hand him something across the desk, and then smoothly nudged the inkwell behind his servant's elbow. As soon as he drew back the pot of ink flew into the air spilling its ebony contents all over the unfortunate boy and the floor. It was just the latest in a long line of attempts by Arthur to get Merlin to quit.

The king stalked over to his heir, stepping onto the one tile Merlin had managed to clean. Merlin drew back in annoyance and was fixing to give the king's back an angry glare so that his prat of a son would see it.

He was stopped by the sight of the Prince's face. It looked pinched and drained of blood, and the young man suddenly looked ten years younger.

"Arthur, what is the meaning of this?" Uther slammed down something onto the desk, which Merlin craned around to try to see.

"I don't know what you mean Father," Arthur said quickly scooping up what Merlin could now see was a cream colored parchment.

"Lord Thurmond sent this message to me by dispatch rider this morning. I would not have believed it if I did not see it was in your hand, my own son's handwriting!" The king punctuated these last words by punching downwards on the desk, causing both Merlin and Arthur to jump.

Arthur hastily opened the parchment letter and read the note.

"I never wrote this father." He said quietly, his eyes scanning the scrawled lines.

"You never wrote this," Uther repeated dangerously.

"Father, I swear. Have you seen his daughter? I wouldn't be professing such sentiments AS THAT to the lady Etienne."

"Love makes even the wisest blind Arthur, and what's worse is that Lord Thurmond claims his daughter is now with child...YOUR CHILD...and is demanding you marry his daughter to defend his family's honor." Uther practically snarled. "I would not have believed you to make such an imprudent and hasty match to one as insignificant as the house of Lord Thurmond!"

By now Arthur was practically stammering in his defense. "Don't you see father? Lord Thurmond is just desperate since his daughter has lost her virtue to align her with the Pendragon name, this is obviously some sort of attempt at coercion."

Uther paused and drew back from his son, an expression of disgust spreading across his face. "You dare to lie to me even now."

"Give me time to prove that this is a forgery, father. I swear I will prove it to you." Arthur stepped from behind the desk and chased after his father. Pleaded to the retreating form of his father.

"You have one week Arthur, then I shall be writing back to Lord Thurmond, and you WILL marry his daughter before you bring further shame on this family."

Uther left, allowing the bedroom doors to swing violently behind him. The silence left by his exit was punctuated by the slam of the door closing further down the corridor. The noise broke the silence and caused both men to jump, suddenly torn from their reverie.

Arthur, still facing the door, slowly looked down at the letter in his hand. Merlin hesitated, unsure if he should break the silence.

He put the rag back in the bucket of water and soap, rolled his sleeves down and stood up.

Arthur still didn't speak.

"So, how do you want to get to started?" Merlin finally asked.

Arthur spun on his heel. "What?"

"To find the forger how you would like to begin? If we've only got three days, we don't have any time to waste." Merlin nodded his head encouragingly.

The Prince was flabbergasted. Why of all things would this idiot believe him? He already knew him to be capable of bullying and throwing things and giving snide insults. Why wouldn't he think him to be lying about this? Didn't the poor class view the royalty as capable of every vice imaginable? Yet here he was, this fool who refused to quit looking at him with those strangely serious eyes in that pale, gaunt face. Arthur flushed under his collar as the shame of all the pranks he had pulled on him surfaced. No. Arthur stifled the feeling angrily. Hadn't he offered to pay him to leave? Anything that he did to him now was his own doing.

"I don't need anyone's help, Merlin. Especially not a clumsy oaf like you, if I'm going to catch this forger, it'll require strategy and cunning."

Arthur strode over to the desk, pulling out his own letter writing parchment and compared it to the message half composed on his desk.

Merlin bounded over and peered over Arthur's shoulder.

"It's uncanny. I'll grant Lord Thurmond that."

"Oh, shut up, Merlin." Arthur snapped, stuffing both pieces of paper into a gray rucksack.

"I'm just saying that you've got a lot riding on this and there'll be a good deal of ground to cover. With my help, we could be done all the sooner." Merlin said following Arthur.

Arthur opened up the cabinet across from his bed and paused, arms resting on the two doors.

"You don't know when to give up do you, Merlin?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder at Merlin, a mixture of frustration and gratitude filling his chest.

"No, Sire." Merlin beamed cheerily back at him.

Arthur quickly turned away so that the smile he felt rising to his lips wouldn't be seen.

"Very well, then fetch me some new clothes and tell the stable hand to ready our horses. We are going on a little trip."

* * *

 **Hours later**

He hated this. He hated everything about this situation.

"What was that sire?" Merlin asked.

Arthur swore under his breath as he realized that he had been muttering his thoughts out loud. Having spent almost his entire life alone, avoided by the servants and away from his father, he had developed the nasty habit of speaking to himself. As a child, he'd established the practice, and now it was just another in a long list of reasons why he wanted to get rid of Merlin.

"Nothing. I just..dropped my flint and steel." Arthur said.

They had set out at once for the home of Lord Thurmond. Arthur wanted to talk to the regent face to face and see if he could discern whether he was responsible for the plot and if he could learn anything. Once they were through at Thurmond Hall, Arthur planned to go pay a visit to an acquaintance of his father who lived in the shadows of the Ember Forest. He was a jack of all trades, a good friend in a pinch and one hell of a forger. If anyone could have mimicked Arthur's handwriting so well, it would be him.

They had ridden hard all day and indeed could have made it to Thurmond Hall just around nightfall, had Arthur not called a halt to their ride. His excuse was just that this part of the trail was narrower and more likely to have pitfalls that could injure the horses at night, though in truth Arthur simply wanted some time alone with the stars above to think.

Arthur sighed, picked up the flint and steel he had dropped and began rummaging once more through the saddlebags.

He sent Merlin almost half an hour ago to fetch firewood, and the thin young man was only just now returning, hair coated with leaves and knees stained with mud.

"It's about time." Arthur taunted over his shoulder, "What were you doing in there, picking flowers?"

Merlin stalked over to the circle of stones created for their campfire where he dropped the logs unceremoniously.

"No, I was too busy wandering around in a swampy, poorly drained forest, looking for dry wood to burn, so your royal backside would not be frozen tonight."

"You can't just say things like that Merlin," Arthur said simply as he walked over to the firepit, "I'm the prince of Camelot, remember?"

Arthur had taken to saying that quite often, now that he thought of it. You can't say things like that Merlin... It felt almost like a reflex, a deflection or method of defense when he felt utterly confronted by a statement from Merlin. That servant had a nasty knack of voicing Arthur's inner thoughts and fears and to hear it coming from...well someone other than himself was largely disconcerting.

"How could I forget?" Merlin grumbled.

A heavy silence stretched between them once again as Merlin struggled to light a fire and Arthur leaned back against his bedroll looking critically at the condemning piece of parchment. The signature was perfect, but that was not surprising; a name is an easy thing to study and replicate. What was so remarkable, was how the body of the love letter matched his hand to perfection. His terrible habit of slanting his Ts too far, and his tendency to Capitalize letters on words that he wanted to emphasize, all stood out as clear markers of his own hand.

Merlin was mumbling to himself, no doubt in frustration at his failed attempts when a little flame burst to life.

The servant gave a half-choked sound of triumph and turned to finally set up his own sleeping accommodations. Arthur glanced over the edge of the parchment and watched the boy happily spring about the camp. Why hadn't he quit? Arthur had done everything in his power to attempt it. Money, taunts, physical torments, long hours, no gratitude, so why was he still here? Arthur couldn't figure it out. Why believe him that he was not the father of Lady Etienne's child, why volunteer to travel with him? Unless...

A gnawing suspicion rose into Arthur's chest. Perhaps this letter was a ploy to draw him out, perhaps Merlin was planning on betraying him, maybe even assassinating him.

Almost as if in reaction to the thought, Merlin tripped with a crash over a cookpot balanced atop a stone, sending the leftover stew flying into the woods. He rolled in a brown, black and red-scarved blur now thoroughly covered with leaves.

Arthur felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

No. Not an assassin. _The boy is too genuine, too happy, too stubborn, and too stupid to be scheming anything like that._ Arthur realized

Merlin blushed bright pink and jumped up to scoop up the mess at the edge of the camp.

"Sorry, sorry."

"Merlin, are you apologizing to me or are you apologizing to the thicket of trees?"

The boy turned, no doubt to say something sarcastic in return, but Arthur raised a hand and cut him off.

"Look just sit down, will you? Help distract me from my concerns and give me something to talk about."

"Me? You really just want to talk to me?" Merlin said in bewilderment.

"No idiot, I just want to talk, you happen to be the only one around at the moment." Arthur sarcastically said and instantly awaited the reaction.

Idiot, fool, simpleton, all of these were just words that Arthur had grown up using to construct barriers around himself. It was easier to see people as your lessers if you diminished their worth. It was also easier to see people as lessers if they stopped acting like your friends. Unfortunately, Arthur had a nasty habit as a young man in drawing friends towards himself. Almost always his father would forcibly end the friendship, so it just became less painful to nip any companionship in the bud. Any other person in the castle would react to the insult with a hardening of the face, then they would draw back, and from then on socially withdraw, interacting only in a professional capacity.

Merlin just snorted in amusement, surprisingly not taking offense.

"Alright, let me grab my bedroll first."

Now it was Arthur's turn to be shocked. How was he not offended? The prince, his future king, a man far above his station in life had denigrated his self-worth...and he laughed? Merlin was either the simplest fool in existence, or he might have a sense of self-worth equalling that of a king.

Arthur somehow felt that there was a good blending of both.

* * *

Merlin sat down across from Arthur, his legs crossed beneath him on the linen mattress and steepled his slender fingers against his own chin.

He paused a moment and studied the prince. His blue eyes narrowing near to slits as he concentrated.

Arthur felt strangely self-conscious; because looking at Merlin scrutinizing him felt as if he were looking at himself through a mirror.

"What do you want to talk about?" Merlin finally asked.

"Are you so slow-witted that I have to do the thinking for you? Anything I really do not care." Arthur sourly said, rolling onto his back.

"So...have you always wanted to be King of Camelot?"

"That's a ridiculous thing to ask, I don't really have a ch-"

"Hey, you said I could talk about anything I wanted."

"Oh, shut up Merlin."

"That phrase just means that I'm right, but you don't want to hear it, doesn't it," Merlin said, in more of a blanket statement than a question.

"Shut up Merlin," Arthur said in confirmation.

The two gazed up at the canopy of trees growing so thickly in this part of the forest that the sky beyond was invisible. However, it was no disappointment,watching the white underbellies of the leaves dance and twirl in the night breeze was peaceful enough. The fire between them crackled and popped as logs broke apart and collapsed inward.

"To answer your question, no I didn't always want to be a King. There was a time, when I was young, that I thought princes were just the sons of Kings, and they could choose what they wanted to do."

Arthur heard Merlin shift on his mat to look at him.

"What did you want to be?"

"Well, for a long time I wanted to be a sailor... then a horsemaster at the castle, God I loved horses then."

"So, what happened when you found out you were destined to be the most powerful man in the land, with all the glory, and the girls and the wealth," Merlin said, sarcasm dripping off the words.

It was clear that his manservant found his position enviable. Arthur supposed it only made sense. From the outside, all they saw was the glamour, fame, glory, and attention. They didn't see the loneliness, the fear of failure, the expectations, the restrictions on friendships, the limits on relationships...

"I, uh, actually it was my father who told me. I understood from that point on, that Regency was not a choice, it was a duty."

"Have you always been afraid of him? Your father I mean?"

The question hit Arthur like an arrow shot from a ballista. Fear his father?

"I don't fear my father, Merlin, I respect him, his knowledge and experience. There is a difference. Don't you respect your father?"

"I never knew him."

Arthur suddenly wondered if Merlin was an illegitimate child, or just an orphan. Not that it mattered, especially for the peasant class.

"But if I had," Merlin continued. "I imagine that when I had grown up, I wouldn't react to him with terror. As a boy maybe, but as a man?"

"Well, he's also my King Merlin, there's also that added to the equation."

"Maybe. I just know that when he came storming into your chambers, you visibly flinched. I just wondered if you were ever close is all."

"Yes, maybe, I don't know, will you shut up Merlin? Try to get some sleep."

Merlin just shrugged and rolled over with a scowl, oblivious to the absolute chaos raging in the mind of the Prince.

 _I don't fear my father...I respect him...he's a hard man certainly, as a king must be. He's my father, but he's not my friend. I don't fear him..._

These thoughts repeated in Arthur's mind as he drifted off to sleep.

 _I don't fear my father...do I?_

* * *

 **7 Years old**

The trim of this tunic chafed his neck horribly, Arthur thought. Yet he had to wear the ancient colors of Camelot for this particular ceremony. Visiting dignitaries in fancy dress stood in a rainbow of colors in the great hall. I just have to itch it a little bit, he thought. He surreptitiously inched a finger closer to his neck. Maybe no one would notice.

The stinging slap of his tutor's hand came down on his arm. He cleared his throat and gave Arthur a keen-eyed stare.

Arthur sourly crossed his arms. His tutor was always watching him like a hawk, and when he was there, he never could get away with anything. They watched as the never-ending parade of people came up to greet his father. He knew his father was important, and these people wanted to come to congratulate his father, but on what exactly? Arthur wasn't sure. Politics, as far as he seemed to observe, seemed to be a lot of people in power slapping each other on the back and bowing to each other, admiring their power and expecting the same in return.

Eventually, the banquet would begin, and at that moment he and the other children would be excused, and that was when he would do it.

He wanted to explore the dungeons because the guards would be at their lowest concentration on the lower levels, all needed to guard the hall and gates tonight.

He just needed to slip away from his tutor...but how?

 **To be continued.**

* * *

 **Okay, so now we are entering a three or four part episodic section with Arthur and Merlin trying to root out the forger and solve this mystery; also with child arthur flashbacks as we get to explore what it is that really turned him into the man he is in season 1**

 **For this next child flashback we are going to be exploring Arthur's relationship with Uther. Uther is a particularly difficult character to write because he clearly arrived in a land overrun by cruel magicians who abused the innocent civilians of the area, yet he is a tyrant. He DOES love Arthur and Morgana but his love is not exactly a balanced or reasonable love.**

 **Some people say that Uther's problem is that he is too strict, but just being a strict principled man is not a problem. I had a father who instilled good virtues and high standards in me and was VERY strict. The problem with Uther is that he instills the WRONG virtues in his son.**

 **Especially in season 1, Uther comes across as a largely unsympathetic character and I'm curious what y'all think about him.**

 **Let me know!**

 **Beth**


	6. Mistaken Identity Part 2

**Hello everyone,**

 **I hope everyone had a good Winter break/Thanksgiving for us Americans/Christmas/Boxing day for the British/New years for everybody.**

 **Believe it or not this has been sitting in my drafts for a while.**

 **Funny enough, I was at church when I heard a discussion on the beauty of friendship and learning to recognize the humanity of a stranger when I thought "People really need to write more stories about discovering friendship." I practically hit myself when I realized that I had already started one and forgotten to update!**

 **Another reminder. Please click on my profile and weigh in on the three polls I have there. If you want to affect the story line, what stories I cover etc, I need you to reply to the polls, otherwise I don't know what you want. Just click on my name and go to POLLS. **

**Karameiwaku : It does seem like Uther would be unfeeling to a kid doesn't it. Though not to damage intentionally, I think deep down, he's afraid of interacting with young Arthur in fear of ruining or corrupting him, he also probably hasn't gotten over killing Arthur's mother yet.**

 **Ruby890 : Yeah, you're probably right, Arthur was harsher to Merlin at the beginning than what I've shown, but as most of this story is from his perspective and exploring his personal demons and internal fears, I'm sure he doesn't seem himself as that cruel to Merlin.**

 **Charis77 : AWWW thank you for your detailed review/comments on each chapter. Each time you gave me a real ego boost. I also agree, I'm sure Uther does have personal demons like Arthur, I've often considered writing a short fanfiction exploring Uther's first few years trying to fight the evil sorcerors in camelot and how they abused and hurt people. I imagine what he saw must have scarred him pretty badly.**

 **clh: Now you sir, or ma'am :) You created some of the most intelligent and well thought out reviews! I loved each and every one of them, and even do appreciate that you criticized my writing. I know that how young Arthur was in that scene was a bit young to be thinking that in depth. I think it took me a bit to fix on a particular voice for him. Also, yeah the tutor in the two scenes probably did clash a bit too much. I finally figured out what I wanted to do with him later. You are right, he's not a nice old man, but he isn't evil. In fact he does have Arthur's best interest at heart, at least as far as he is aware. He's a bit old fashioned, but he's really concerned with trying to help toughen Arthur up for the day when his very harsh father is going to take more of an interest in his life and so critique him quite harshly.**

 **Thanks for the reviews everyone. I love reading them. It also inspires me to write more!**

 **On to the plot. Enjoy!**

Beth

* * *

 **Previous chapter continued.**

7 Years old

The trim of this tunic chafed his neck horribly, Arthur thought. Yet he had to wear the ancient colors of Camelot for this particular ceremony. Visiting dignitaries in fancy dress stood in a rainbow of colors in the great hall. I just have to itch it a little bit, he thought. He surreptitiously inched a finger closer to his neck. Maybe no one would notice.

The stinging slap of his tutor's hand came down on his arm. He cleared his throat, and gave Arthur a keen-eyed stare.

Arthur sourly crossed his arms. His tutor was always watching him like a hawk, and when he was there, he never could get away with anything. They watched as the never-ending parade of people came up to greet his father. He knew his father was important, and these people wanted to come to congratulate his father, but on what exactly? Arthur wasn't sure. Politics, as far as he seemed to observe, seemed to be a lot of people in power slapping each other on the back and bowing to each other, admiring their power and expecting the same in return.

Eventually, the banquet would begin, and at that moment he and the other children would be excused, and that was when he would do it.

He wanted to explore the dungeons because the guards would be at their lowest concentration on the lower levels, all would be needed to guard the hall and gates tonight.

He just needed to slip away from his tutor...but how?

The tutor's firm grasp at the back of his neck brought Arthur back to the present moment.

"Alright, it's time now. Go wish your father a good night."

Arthur dug in the soft tan heels of his leather boots but the tutor' sinewy arms, strong despite his age, sent Arthur stumbling forward.

Arthur walked to the front from the left side of the podium. Noblemen and women turned their heads at his approach and tittered in high pitched voices. Arthur ground his jaw together and focused on not tripping. His little fist tightened around the sword at his waist, a gift from his father at his last birthday.

A pair of noblewomen made little adoring awws of approval to his left, and Arthur felt each sound tighten his nerves like the strings on a harp. He felt half a mind to bolt and run from the chamber.

Risking a glance over his shoulder, the hoary head of his tutor, a good foot over most people in the assembly fixed him with a steely eyed glare that said. _You might be afraid now, but if you embarress me in front of your father I will give you a reason to be afraid._

Arthur tore his eyes away from his tutor and looked forward. His father was smiling vaguely at him, and leaned to his side to make some comment to one of the knights who laughed, evidently amused by the observation. At about five paces from his father, Arthur stuck his right foot forward, bent down low and swept over his leg with his free hand. He raised his eyes to his fathers in search of approval and was relieved to see his father relax and step forward. Arthur felt a buzzing in his ears from his nerves and adrenaline.

His father turned to the assembly and said something, but it echoed in his ears like a voice under water.

 _My son...been learning...quite noble._

Uther stepped forward, placed a warm firm hand on Arthur's thin shoulder and bent low over him.

"Goodnight my boy. You've done me proud tonight." As he straightened up, Uther brushed a finger over Arthur's round cheek and gave the tiniest of smiles.

The simple motion was enough to thrill Arthur with joy and relief. His father approved! He leaned slightly into the weight of his father's firm hand on his shoulder, the weight felt like a stabilizing force in his life. If only...if only he would visit him more, talk to him. As it was, Arthur usually could just watch and admire from afar. Even now Uther pulled back too soon, resuming the pose of noble regent, every inch the King of Camelot.

Arthur took his cue and withdrew from the front, returning to the safety of his tutor's looming presence.

"Well done Arthur." Two large hands settled themselves on his shoulders as he looked out at his father, and the person he really wanted to be around.

As one, the adults all began to seat themselves at the banquet tables, and the various tutors, nursemaids and staff began to usher out the royal progeny. About a dozen or so small children, too young to join the adults in the reverie filed down the hall. Arthur spotted Cedrin, the son of the master of the gaurd. Turning to his tutor, Arthur tugged at his sleeve.

"Is my arm a sword, your highness?" He asked dryly, not looking down.

"No, I..."

"Then why are you trying to draw it? Hmm?"

Arthur frowned in frustration before he saw his tutor's eagle eyes glinting at him from the side.

"You're joking with me."

"Ugh, yes boy. We'll have a long way to go with your sense of humor yet. What do you want?"

"Can I go with Cedrin, his tutor can walk us both to bed, and you won't have to climb those stairs you hate."

"May I."

"May I go with Cedrin, please?" Arthur corrected himself.

Arthur could see that he was considering the idea, he ran a finger along the side of his nose in contemplation.

"Very well, let me see you talk to them so I know that you are taken care of."

Dashing between the crowds of servants approaching the hall with trays loaden with food, Arthur found Cedrin.

Cedrin's tutor was a tall, gangly scholar with red and curly hair. Arthur bowed his head at the scholar in respect.

"Would you mind terribly, watching me for a bit while my tutor runs an errand. He'll be back shortly."

"Not at all!" The young man smiled at the sight of the eager young prince and waved back at Arthur's tutor. He inclined his head gravely in thanks, before warning Arthur with a glare not to give the young man any trouble.

Arthur knew that if he innocently smiled, his tutor, in all his keen wisdom, would know he was up to something, so Arthur simply rolled his eyes in annoyance. Walking shoulder to shoulder with Cedrin, they slipped under the arching entrance to the east wing.

 _Now all I'll have to do is slip away._

* * *

 **Merlin's POV**

A soft line of yellow afternoon sunlight lay across Merlin's face. In confusion he took a step back, blinking away the glare. What day was it, and why was he standing? He didn't know quite why, but he had the impression he had been sleeping. Where had he been sleeping? Finally the bright spots before his eyes began to disappear, and Merlin cast his eyes quickly about in panic. He couldn't exactly remember, but he DID know where he was. He was standing in the great hall, long tables were spread out in some grand feast...no, not just any feast, why did it look so familiar?

An elbow jabbed itself into Merlin's ribs, so sharp and bony that Merlin knew it was Gaius prior to looking.

"Merlin, pay attention to the performance."

"Oww...what perform-" Merlin's voice skittered to a halt as his eyes drifted right. Lady Helen of Mora, Camelot's shining star in the theatrical world, stood far right, radiant in a gown of yellow that blended in with the soft lighting.

Raising her arms elegantly, she began to sing.

From the very first syllable the air on Merlin's neck stood up, tinging with the feeling of intoxicating magic.

Merlin jumped and looked around the room, worried someone had noticed his reaction. However, everyone around him was looking supiciously tired. Heads bobbed, some more slowly than others, and bodies slumped over the expensive feast.

Magic.

Now, was he vulnerable? Hard to say, Merlin had been resistant to other forms of magic before, but just in case, Merlin put his hands over his ears and cast a spell of muting over them.

Why was Lady Helen doing this?!

The entrancing figure slowly stepped off her pedestal and down between the tables, not looking at the impressive effects of her spells. No, the woman's eyes were locked with feline intensity on the figures opposite her.

The royal family.

Merlin squeezed his ears even tighter and looked first over to the royal table, slowly buried between a thickening burial shroud of webs and then back at Lady Helen.

The hatred burning in those eyes could topple mountains Merlin felt, and shuddered, but it was not in fear of her spell, he felt his magic call out to him consolingly to let him know he was safe and capable of defending himself, he shuddered in fear of the emotion. That any human could have that level of primal hatred was horrifying to Merlin. People are better than that. People SHOULD be better than that.

The timbre of Lady Helen's voice shifted into a higher tone, growing shriller as she stalked forward, side to side, swaying like a snake.

It was then, in disbelief, Merlin realized her target. Prince Arthur. She was trying to kill the King's son!

She pulled a knife out of her belt, and raised her arm aloft, as the song rose to its final cresendo.

Merlin felt a strange pull, and his magic screamed at him to save the Prince's life. As he would save anyone's life...

The singer flung the blade, the silver dagger tearing the air.

 _YOU HAVE TO SAVE HIM. YOU NEED TO. YOU MUST._

 ** _IF I LET HIM DIE, UTHER WILL HAVE NO HEIR. TIME WILL BRING THAT MURDERER'S REIGN TO AN END._**

 _MERLIN NO!_

 ** _BE QUIET_**

Merlin stood still and watched it happen, stifling the inner voice inside.

The blade thudded into the Prince's chest with perfect accuracy, straight into his heart.

The hollow thud of the blade's handle hitting his chest jolted Merlin back to reality, and it was as if a veil was pulled from his eyes and he could see again. Merlin looked with horror at what he had done.

 _What did I do! I let him die._

Lady Helen of Mora turned and looked at him, and a horrible grin cracked her face, instantly the visage of a beautiful woman vanished in a flash of wind and light. She cackled triumphantly, her hand pointed accusingly at Merlin.

"Look at what you have done Emrys, look at what your actions have wrought. Freedom for our kind, and death to such as these!"

The euphoric shrieking, or perhaps the weight of what he had done knocked Merlin backwards onto the ground in shock.

"Death to all who keep company with such a king!" The now old woman cast a spell, setting the webs aflame, trapping the comatose nobles in a horrific sleeping death, helpess as the flames licked at them.

Merlin tried to get up from the ground in a panic, but a strong force held him down.

"No!" He screamed.

* * *

 **Merlin's POV**

"Yes it is, Merlin, you can't just contradict me you know." The annoying voice of the prince cut through the black behind Merlin's eyes.

Merlin shot up from the hard forest floor in alarm.

Over head the silvery leaves danced, and a fresh spring scent of mulch and grass told Merlin that he was still in the forest. _That means I am in the forest, looking for answers about Lady Viviennes claims of being with child...with Arthur. ARTHUR_

Merlin sat up, rubbing at his face vigorously to wipe away the grogginess, and the memory of that horrific nightmare.

Arthur stood watching him already dressed, jaw clenched, and eyebrow raised in annoyance.

"What?" Merlin asked groggily, running a hand through his rather disordered hair, and squinting up him.

"You know I could have you executed for that." Arthur said blandly.

"For what?" Irritation slipping into Merlin's voice.

Merlin was already starting to feel less guilty for letting Arthur die in that dream.

"For contradicting me. I said, it's time to get moving, and you said...no, well you shouted it actually. "

Merlin grunted in response as he pulled off his blanket.

The campfire was already doused and scattered over the forest floor but all of the Prince's bed roll and supplies lay scattered about.

"I didn't know it was possible for a human to sleep so long. I had half a mind to leave you here." Arthur said sarcastically.

Merlin straightened up with hands on hips and looked back at Arthur. "I didn't know you could dress yourself, what, finally took lessons from a four year old?"

The Prince snorted and turned away to put on his cape.

"At least," Arthur called over his shoulder. "A four year old would be a more competent servant than you."

"I see your sense of humor is returning my lord." Merlin said, in

"Yes, it's hard not to when attended by a court fool."

Merlin laughed in disbelief at his constant attempts to belittle. Things like that had so little effect on him, especially after a rather hard and lonely childhood. Even as his loneliness grew as a child, magic had filled that place in his heart with power and confidence. Like a burning coal it was always there and glowing, reaffirming his self worth and his place in the world.

Merlin just scoffed at the prince and rolled up his bedroll, unaware of the confusion in the eyes watching him.

That nightmare, it did worry him a bit.

Merlin supposed it did mirror his subconscious a bit. Part of him wondered if it would have been more convenient if Arthur had died, because then he could use his gifts for good in anyway he saw fit, instead of shackled to Arthur's dead weight.

Did he wonder if he should have let him die?

A small twig snagged onto the underside of the wool cloth, and temporarily cut down the line of question while Merlin removed it. Once done, he rolled it up and tied it to his horse's pack.

 _Did I think about letting him die?_

Merlin's conscious pricked him a bit for the idea that he had even considered it. Merlin abhored death and killing of any kind. No, Merlin realized, he had not really considered letting Arthur die.

He knew that he would save him, just as he would save every creature from death if he possibly could.

A life is a life, no matter how prattish the person is to which that life belongs.

* * *

 **Arthur's POV**

"So, where do we go first?"

Merlin asked, as he bounced rather ridiculously on top his horse.

Arthur shook his head, Merlin would never have the graceful ride of a great horseman.

"To Lord Thurmond's estate."

"So, are we going to just ride up to the front gate?"

"Yes, of course. I will gather information from his household."

"I mean, that letter he wrote your father sounded rather angry. Are you sure that's wise?"

"Of course." Arthur said, pressing his lips into a thin line.

 _Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut like other servants?_

"What if he takes your head off with an axe or something. You just walked through the door and FWOOM"

"He would not dare, he fears my father too much."

Merlin hmmmed doubtfully.

 _Good maybe he's done tal-_

 _"_ What if he poisons you?" Merlin said.

"Again he fears and respects my father too much to dare doing that."

"Would he? I mean, I wouldn't put it past him, he IS a father after all."

"Merlin."

"A father who suspects you of robbing his daughter's virtue."

"Merlin."

"Maybe he would have an assassin do it overnight. The castle might have secret passages. Yeah, that's how I'd do it."

" Just leave the thinking to me Merlin, I don't want you to hurt yourself too much," Arthur frowned in sudden realization, " and what is with you thinking of ways I might die!"

Merlin quieted after that, suddenly intent on the road up ahead.

It was all just as well, Arthur knew he needed time to prepare what he was going to say to Lord Thurmond, and who in the household he might ask for information.

He did not have long though, as the trees thinned and the road began to even out from the greater flow of traffic. Soon they came out of the trees in a valley beneath a small hill where the squat, gray, rather ugly, but infamously sturdy stronghold of Lord Thurmond stood.

Many wars in Camelot had been won or lost, depending over who had control of the keep's thick walls. Some scholars even thought that the old castle might have been Camelot's original capital city, or a sorceror's keep.

Merlin whistled approvingly.

"That, is one large house for one family."

Arthur drew up his horse's reins and leaned backwards.

"Well, Lord Thurmond helped my father rid Camelot of the scourge of magic, even saved his life on a few occasions, or so my Tutor told me."

"If they were that close you'd think your father would be pleased at the prospect of marriage between you and the Lady Vivienne."

"Well, not only the idea of a natural birth being a disgrace, father will want me to marry a king's daughter most likely. Unite our kingdom with another and secure Camelot from the likes of Cenred. Anyway, I think they had a falling out years ago."

"What about?" Merlin asked, his blue eyes lit up with curiosity.

Arthur didn't know, but his manservant wasn't entitled to that information, and letting people what he didn't know only made him appear weaker.

So, Arthur clicked his tongue, spurring his horse forward and keeping silent.

* * *

 **Hope you all enjoyed that.**

 **Feel free to weigh in on those polls to affect what stories I tell in this fanfiction.**

 **Beth**


	7. Mistaken Identity Part 3

JMJ

Hello everyone! I hope that all of you are having a good time back to school/work.

So here is the third part of our forgery plotline. I need to go back and re-edit part 1 when I said that the forgery plotline would be a three parter. I think it needs another part, or two at the most I promise.

The most frustrating thing for me is that I've finished the Poisoned Chalice chapters. Something I am very much looking forward to having you read/review. I can't have you do that, though, until this series is done. So please, bear with me.

 **Wayward-Or-Awkward: Thank you so much for leaving that review. You are correct, there really aren't many fictions from Arthur's perspective, and some of the ones that are, _though I love all fanfictions that people create because they are an expression of love and creativity,_ some of the arthur fanfictions I feel are a bit...out of character. I mean, I get it. I would love to have Arthur open about his feelings of friendship, but realistically he AND Merlin have a good deal of growing to do. Also, you might be onto something with your guess about the dungeon...I guess we'll see ;)**

 **Vanvdreamer: Awwww thank you so much for leaving all those reviews. I'd love to respond to each one individually but I guess I'll just summarize. First off, thank you for the feedback on that (creep) exchange. I also felt that this was a big moment for the viewers, to let us know that Arthur is not just a jerk, that he is restraining himself. Your review on chapter 5 was one of my favorite reviews so far! You picked up on something I am trying, and struggling to write, that Merlin's altruism really is quite puzzling to Arthur. Throughout this fanfiction, I hope that I naturally am able to develop this friendship in a natural way. Finally, I did want to say that you're probably right. Merlin is so sweet that he worries if he ever considered doing bad things! Thanks for all those reviews, please keep them coming!**

Lastly I do want to say that something I have noticed is that in some ways, Arthur's friendship with Merlin was stronger than Merlin's was for Arthur early on. Let me explain what I mean though, because on the surface Merlin did a lot more for Arthur than vice versa.

Merlin feels in a small way bound by destiny to aid Arthur. There really isn't genuine affection for a while. Arthur meanwhile, has NO idea why Merlin is so fiercely loyal to him. He is fascinated by Merlin in a way that Merlin is NOT fascinated by him. There is an obvious mysteriousness about Merlin, while Merlin at least in the first season thinks he sees through Arthur quite clearly. So Arthur's affection for his servant is genuine while Merlin's is for a time shaded with tinges of responsibility.

Part of the growth of these characters is Arthur accepting that he will never really know all there is to know about Merlin and Merlin has to learn that there is more to Arthur than that of a prattish noble.

Beth

* * *

A cool spring breeze rich with the scent of turf, trees, and smoke tousled the young men's hair as they surveyed the scene ahead. About the length of twenty wagons lay between them and Thurmond Hall. Arthur looked over at his manservant who peered ahead with a strange glassy expression, as if he hoped to peer ahead into the troubles that lay before them.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Come on Merlin, it's not like your life is the one in danger."

The strange look in his eyes retreated as the idiotic smile returned.

"Oh hang on, I'm travelling side by side with you this whole trip. Which means I am very likely to be hurt instead of you, if anything ."

"No, you're right. You should travel behind me, we are most likely to be attacked from the rear." Arthur said in fake seriousness.

Merlin looked askance at Arthur, a slow grin spreading across his features.

"Was that a joke?" He asked.

 _It was a joke, wasn't it. It's...alright to joke with Merlin isn't it? My father once said that humor is only permissible between social equals. It causes confusion about rank and social status. It causes a false sense of camaraderie which is impossible to maintain because a royal cannot allow himself to be caught up in the concern of a_ peasant. Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his saddle _But surely that doesn't apply to Merlin...after all...it's Merlin. What harm can he do if I joke with him as an equal? The idiot already acts like an equal, joking with him isn't going to change that._

"No, it was an order." Arthur said sarcastically.

"Oh, I'll be sure to duck then, if I hear anything." Merlin said loftily.

Arthur laughed a moment, and saw Merlin beaming back at him, proud that he had managed to make him laugh. The prince forced a neutral expression back onto his face.

"You really are an odd one, Merlin. Come on, we'll dismount here and walk the rest of the way." Arthur ordered.

Arthur and Merlin decided to dismount a few dozen yards from the town and walk their horses while they hatched the rest of their plan. He was also glad to delay getting to that castle, still unsure of what he was going to say.

He slid off the saddle, his boots hitting the springy turf with a muffled thud. What a relief it was, after a long day's riding, to be on your feet again. He could feel every bone in his legs and hips after that long ride, especially with the uneven trail in the woods. Arthur pulled the reins up and over the horse's head, patting the great roan beast on the neck. The horse shook its head and stamped a hoof. Arthur wondered if it could sense the nervousness that he felt...his tutor had once told him that.

" Alright, this is what I want you to do...Merlin!"

When he turned to look at his manservant, one boot was visible over the edge of the saddle, and one arm clung desperately at the horse's mane.

Arthur walked over to the other side of Merlin's steed and saw where the Servant had inexplicably tangled his leg on the dismount. The boy struggled to free himself a moment, his long thin fingers grasping desperately at the leather straps. After a moment of this ridiculous struggle, he flopped his head back to look at Arthur.

"I know you are awfully busy sire, but..." Merlin asked, a cool tone of sarcasm lacing his voice.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Arthur placed his arms under Merlin's arms and grasped upward, freeing Merlin's weight off the strap so it was easier to untie.

"Oh my word, you're such a girl Merlin. You don't even know how to dismount a horse properly." He groaned.

"Really? I wouldn't say that about girls. I thought I heard that the Lady Morgana showed you up not too long...OOF"

Arthur let go, letting the servant drop to the hard packed ground.

"There's just no understanding you sometimes." Merlin groaned, pulling himself up from the ground.

"You really need to learn when to keep your mouth closed, Merlin." Arthur said looking down at the sprawled man below him. Merlin squinted up at him, the sun behind's Arthur's head making it difficult to look as angry as he wished.

Arthur almost offered a hand to help his servant up, but he successfully mastered the instinct, pulling back and turning around to look at the large structure before them.

"Right, so here's the plan. We will get us a room at the Inn at Gatetown. Lord Thurmond will not be welcoming us to stay at his home, whether or not he is guilty of forgery."

Merlin popped up beside Arthur, still brushing off the dirt of the road. His hand paused mid-swipe and he tilted his head with curiosity.

"Gatetown?" He asked.

Arthur gestured ahead. Now that they were approaching it, Merlin could see that the two great wrought iron gates of the large building were drawn up and one could see from end to end of the two . On the near exterior of the castle walls were a dozen or so sprawling houses, inside the castle's embracing walls were a number of structures that appeared to be shops, craftsmen and stables. An unknown number of houses were on the other end of the gates.

"Lord Thurmond set up a sort of city center in the courtyard of his estate." Arthur sketched a outline in the air with an outstretched finger. "Settlers and travelers chose to build their homes here overtime, pressed up against the castle walls for safety."

"It's ingenious." Merlin agreed, "The locals could flee inside and bring down the gates whenever needed."

"Mmm. Well, some say it is tantamount to treason."

"Why?"

"Well, Thurmond has established a sort of local council, with the townspeople coming to him with complaints and concerns."

"Doesn't it make sense to have local government, especially this far from the castle?"

"Yes, it does, but not when that local leader, or in this case Thurmond takes issues with my father. The people here have greater loyalty to him than Camelot, so watch what you say around here."

As they led their horses forward, the looming turrets jutted up into the sky. The thick squat walls of the building huddled over the surrounding cottages and lean-tos like a mother hen guarding her chicks.

Despite the large appearance of House Thurmond, the large open courtyard was basically the town square for the small village, which had built up around the home. Tenant farmers rented out large tracts of land, and their small cottages, pressed close to the dark keep's walls.

"So," Merlin began, kicking at a stone in the path. "What's your grand plan?"

"Well, after we get rooms and a proper meal, I'll mingle with the townsfolk and see what I can learn. You will stay at the inn and out of trouble."

"What makes you think the townsfolk will talk with a prince."

"They won't know I'm a prince."

Merlin cast a _really Arthur?_ look.

"I made sure not to wear any royal crests of Camelot." He replied defensively.

"Arthur, you don't realize, do you, how differently you look from the common man?

 _Now what does THAT mean? I can look common if I bloody well please._ Arthur stubbornly thought.

Merlin continued. "Your clothes, they're well made and clean. Your hair is well kept and you can afford to keep a blade sharp enough to shave. Your horse is strong and has brand new tack, and you are clearly not wanting for food."

"Hang on! Are you calling me fat?"

"I just mean that no one in that town is going to mistake you for anything but nobility. A knight? Maybe...If you kept your mouth shut."

Arthur had never considered that before. When he saw someone of lower social standing, he acknowledged that they were, but never had REALLY looked at the differences in their life styles before. Merlin's clothes were ill-fitting and a bit frayed, and sure he had seen it. He'd seen how people in the town looked, but had he ever really LOOKED at the differences? It had been ignorant of him to never look at the lower classes as they truly were.

 _Of course I can't let Merlin know that he was actually right about something._

"You are such a worry wort Merlin, but I just realized that it would serve us better if I go into the Great Hall and meet with Lord Thurmond. Assuming he doesn't take off my head as you suggested, and judging by his reaction, I should be able to tell whether he forged the letter himself or if he is genuinely tricked. I doubt I'll be able to speak with Vivienne though. Meanwhile you will go about town and speak with the locals."

"Brilliant idea, I couldn't have thought better myself." Merlin smirked.

* * *

 _7 Years Old_

Young Arthur Pendragon was currently trying to enact his grand escape. Only minutes before he, and his tutor had left the great hall to head to bed. While dozens of important dignitaries filled every inch of the feast, dozens more guards were currently posted at the walls, keeping watch for any assailant. Therefore leaving the dungeons unprotected, like they had never been before, and the young prince was going to take full advantage of the opportunity.

He had left his tutor to walk with young Cedric's tutor up to bed, promising him that he would go up to bed. However, he told the gangly teenager currently watching him that his own tutor would be coming to retrieve him later.

They made their slow way up the stairs to the second floor, Cedric constantly trying to pull away and go look at things and the young red-headed scholar rushing after him. Arthur allowed the distance between them to slowly increase until he was a good six feet away. Just as they rounded a corner, Arthur hung back and looked down the passageway from whence he had come. Now was his opportunity.

 _Now or never... I have been waiting forever, maybe even a whole YEAR to see what's in the dungeon._ The little prince decided.

He put his hands to either side of his mouth in a mock shout down the hall.

"I am coming!" Thank you sir, I see my tutor now. I will go with him, if I may."

"Well, let me see that you get to him alright." The young man said, slowly approaching the corner.

Arthur knew that he would need to leave, before the young man noticed that no haggard old man was waiting down the hallway for him.

"Oh, it's quite alright," Arthur said backing away, " you will want to go to bed. I thank you." Arthur darted down the corridor and into one of the open archways before the young man could protest. He pressed himself back against the cobblestones, and held his breath in anticipation. The footsteps approached, paused, turned on their heel and faded away.

"Cedric, don't open that door, these are not your father's chambers..." The frustration and the volume of the voice faded into the distance.

Arthur slowly let out his breath, and rested his head against the wall. A thrill of excitement passed over his spine, making his hair stand on end. He was doing something disobedient! He might get caught! The possibility of failure was almost more thrilling than the pleasure of getting his way...almost that is.

He remained in the alcove for a few minutes, waiting for the final wave of children, staff and guards on duty rotation to pass. Then he darted out, as unnoticeable and quiet as the shadows he jumped between. It didn't take long to reach the entrance to the dungeons. Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring of keys he had stolen a few days ago. He didn't even know whose ring they were. They might be keys to the various kitchen cabinets for all he knew. But it COULD be a guard's keys.

Arthur's little fingers fumbled over the heavy metal keys.

 _Too small...no, too big...no...maybe?_

Arthur used both hands to lift the single key into the lock of the door.

He turned the door latch with a wrench, but it remained closed.

A few more keys and wrenching door handles later and Arthur was ready to give up hope.

His grand plans all laid low because he found the wrong set of keys.

 _This was stupid._ Arthur rammed his shoulder into the door as he twisted again. I _shouldn't have gotten excited_ A new key inserted and BAM Arthur twisted the handle with a push. _for something without planning ahea-_

Arthur tumbled forward into the cool darkness of the dungeon steps.

"Whoa!"

His hands reached out instinctively to catch himself on the stair's slick and slightly grimy walls.

"Oh, gross!"

 _Whoever cleaned the castle should be made to come down here as well,_ Arthur thought. _Who does clean the castle? I should probably learn that._

Arthur saw two torches blazing ahead, flanking the stairwell and illuminating it brightly.

 _And who lights those? That's a waste of good torches. Nobody is coming down here._

With all of his straining and reaching up on tip toes, he couldn't get the cumbersome source of light down. So Arthur resigned himself to reaching in the dim glow of the stairs to explore. The stairs wound slowly down into a big open chamber. A number of paths led to the left where Arthur knew there were prison cells. He didn't see a guard though, and that was strange. For, no matter how important the feast upstairs was, he had never known his father not to leave someone guarding the dungeon stairs.

Arthur nervously plucked a marble from his tunic pocket and rolled it between his fingers. He had brought it, in case of need of last minute diversion. Arthur was not too confident in the effectiveness of the marble plan, but it looked like that might not be needed, however.

Arthur once more swept his eyes about the empty room. Still no screams of, "What are you doing here?"

 _How lucky is this?_ He thought happily, but better not to question a miracle.

Arthur shoved the marble back into his pocket and eagerly headed towards the prisoners cells, but a strange cold breeze blew down a corridor and into Arthur's face. Like an icy breath it shook his hair and wreathed around him, carrying a scent of something animal.

Arthur took a step towards the yawning archway and glance downwards. The darkness below gaped back with the savagery of some hungry beast. Behind him the relatively clean and well lit passage to the cells beckoned him.

He knew that it was dangerous, on top of disobedient to explore the chasm like dungeons, in years. Besides, his aim HAD been to explore the prisoners' cells that he had heard of, but never seen.

Arthur stepped away from the dark archway and toward the cells, his small boots tapping quietly as he walked.

A sudden thought occurred to Arthur, that stopped him in his tracks.

 _I have read many books that have pictures of prison cells...but I don't know WHAT is down there... and this may be my only chance before I get old like father and become a king._

Arthur turned back slowly again, and stuck a small fist against his mouth in thought.

 _Yes, I just HAVE to explore down there first. But I'll need a light._

Arthur noticed a few unlit torches by a small table,maybe for the guards. On it was an old mug of some sort of drink, a plate with a half eaten sandwich, and two books.

That could mean the guard could return at any moment!

Without pausing to consider it further, Arthur rushed forward to pick up the smallest torch from the pile, still almost half as big as him and toddled over to one of the lit torches burning on the wall.

The torch tip blossomed with a flower of fire, casting a warmth on the prince's hands.

He carried it back to the edge of that mysterious staircase.

With all the bravado he could muster, the prince took a deep breath and stepped down in the darkness.

* * *

So I really couldn't help including baby arthur reflecting on the stupidity of leaving lit torches everywhere. It's probably my biggest pet peeve in historical films and tv shows.

I hope that I did an okay job making Arthur's thoughts a bit simpler this chapter. Not that seven year olds are simple but the way they verbalize it is a bit more simple. However, for anyone who doesn't have younger siblings or children, I would caution them that seven year olds are a lot more introspective and clever than they sound out loud.

I do apologize that this forgery plotline is taking me longer to develop, but once I began writing it, I realized that it needed to be more deeply fleshed out. I hope that you are enjoying this young arthur flash back sub plot as well.

 **Important: Apparently changed their Polls policy, so I can't put up multiple polls for you guys to vote on. That being said, I created a forum on my profile with chat headings based on my poll questions so you can still go on my profile click FORUMS and give feedback. Some of the questions I ask is, WHAT SCENES FROM THE SHOW DO YOU ABSOLUTELY WANT TO SEE INCLUDED so if you want to influence the story go ahead and give an opinion!**

Peace,

Beth


	8. A Penned Dragon

JMJ

To my most laconic reviwer, Gaylebf, an equally laconic reply: Thank you

Also, thank you for everyone who has reviewed, favorited and followed this story. Writing this story is helping me get through a very tough time and when you review it encourages me to keep doing it.

Beth

* * *

 **Previous chapter continued**

 **Arthur- 7 Years Old- The Castle Dungeon**

The steps, slick with the humidity of an underground chasm, reflected the spastic lighting of the large torch held firmly in both hands of the little prince. Arthur moved cautiously, sliding his toe to the edge of the step before gently stepping down. It wouldn't do to get hurt on his first great adventure.

 _I wonder what is down here and why does it look even dirtier than the rest of the dungeons? When was the last time anyone-_

Arthur lost his train of thought as a dusty cobweb, long abandoned as too shabby even for spiders wrapped around Arthur's head.

"Aaack! Ugh! Gross!"

Arthur instinctively dropped the torch, which promptly rolled down a few steps, and clawed at his face, peeling the sticky substance away. He nearly hyperventilated, all he could see was webs, all he could think was about spiders crawling all over him. The little prince hated spiders! Ever since he woke up to one on his arm one night, they had been the subject of his nightmares for many months. After a moment of swatting himself in a blind panic, Arthur stumbled back, landing down hard on his bottom on the step behind him. He tried to think of the worst curse word he could...

"Shoot!" Arthur muttered, satisfied that this situation warranted such a harsh expletive.

The torch had rolled far enough down the steps that it was difficult to find all the sticky threads wrapped around him. However, once he was convinced he had peeled the webs successfully away, he felt free to breathe again. The sticky residue from his hands was wiped onto the sides of his tunic. It showed a grayish stain, Arthur realized with a frown. He would just make sure to hide it in his laundry, and away from his tutor's prying eyes.

Arthur gently scuttled down after the torch, which thankfully had not extinguished its flame, how much longer it was going to last, Arthur had no idea, so he decided that he best hurry along the passage.

For an indeterminate amount of time Arthur made his way down the steps, at first trying to count the steps, then getting bored of that and deciding that he would instead imagine himself some great explorer, a treasure hunter exploring an ancient ruin of dark and dangerous magic. It even began to seem to him that he could feel something tingly in the air, that made the hair on the back of his neck and his arms stand up.

 _How much longer does it go? Maybe it goes on forever, into the center of the earth!_

Twenty more steps down and the steps leveled into a straight passage with jagged rough-hewn walls. Clearly whoever cut away into the stone did not expect much traffic throughout, because the rock juts out, whacking elbows and snagging the fabric of Arthur's tunic. Finally, Arthur came to a turn in the passage, cut off by a rusty leaning gate.

 _Oh no._

Arthur walked forward in dismay and rattled the heavy links blocking the path. Whoever wanted this locked, had gone to great lengths to ensure that it remained that way. Up ahead a second gate was locked and padlocked as well.

"All that for nothing." Arthur groaned.

"Who speaks?" A rich and powerful voice reverberated off of the walls of the passage, with a burst of air carrying that distinct animal smell from before. It ruffled Arthur's hair and nearly blew out the torch.

Arthur froze, his hand still on the metal chain. Could it be a guard? Maybe he should just turn around and run before he is discovered. That was when Arthur realized that the links of the chains were on the outside of the gates. Whoever was in there was not intended to get out, and it also meant that he was safe of any interference.

"Who was that?" Arthur called out past the gate." Is someone in there?"

"I asked a question of you first...would it not be polite for you to answer my question?" The voice said, a tinge of amusement coloring its sound.

Arthur felt strangely chastised by the stranger, and blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Sorry, I- I am Pr- I am Arthur."

"Arthur... how unexpected." The voice fell silent, and the air got strangely still again.

The little prince jammed the torch between two bars of the gate so that he had both hands free. He pressed his face to metal and tried to peer through the mysterious darkness beyond.

Now a strange smell of an oil-like substance flowed through the tunnel towards him, and a strange whirring sound down the passage.

Arthur stood on tip-toes and tried to gaze ahead.

"Are you a prisoner here?" He called out loudly, a fair bit of concern in his voice.

The whirring sound down the hall came to a stop with a snap, and slowly the gas smell faded away as well.

"Yes."

"Oh...I am sorry. Why aren't you upstairs in the other cells?"

A metal clanking from deep within the passage filled the air a moment, and the loud voice got louder as if the prisoner had approached the gate.

"The king put me here as a punishment."

Arthur grew quiet. If his father put him here, he must have had a good reason. This might be a bad guy of some kind.

"What king?" Arthur asked nervously.

"A cruel, monstrous king who killed my people and chained me here below the castle. " The stranger said venomously.

 _Oh, so it wasn't my father._

"My, uh, the King of Camelot is now a wise and good man, he fought off the monsters and freed the people from the monsters who were all around the land. Maybe you were imprisoned by the king before him?"

The voice beyond the halls laughed a deep throated laugh and fell silent again.

"I could tell the king that I found you, maybe he would let you go!" Arthur paused. "But, I am not supposed to be down here. I am only seven you see. If I tell him about you, I will get in trouble for being out of bed..."

"Well, of course, like father like son..." the voice said quietly.

Arthur was paying the comment no mind, too wrapped up in his own conscience. Finally, his angel won out.

"Don't worry. I will get you out. I will tell the king what you said, and he will send guards down to free you. But can you wait until tomorrow? I want to finish exploring the cells tonight before I get grounded."

There was a long pause as nothing in the air moved.  
"Hello?"

"Interesting."

"Are you still there?"

"Perhaps the legends will come to pass..." The metal clinked once again, and the sound of an exhaled breath coupled with a strong breeze came down the passage. " Yes, young Arthur, I can wait until you speak with the king, though how will you, a young boy, convince him?" The voice asked a strange hint of amusement in it.

Arthur pondered telling him the truth. What harm could it do? When he was rescued, he would be grateful and maybe come and thank Arthur for all he had done for him. Arthur imagined being hailed as a hero, everybody smiling and proud of him...he liked that idea.

"I am," he began, puffing out his narrow chest. "Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot."

Ah, of course, Pen...dragon, your HIGHNESS. " The voice did not sound surprised, Arthur thought with a shrug. Maybe he was just embarrassed to be speaking to royalty.

"There's no need for all of that." He said trying to sound magnanimous.

The rasping voice in the darkness just laughed again and fell silent.

"How have you lived in there? What do you eat? I mean, did the old king give you that much food?" Arthur asked worriedly, images of a living skeleton, dressed in rags with wild eyes filling his mind.

"Many creatures run around in the bowels of the castle, I consume them."

"You mean like rats?"

"Among other things."

"That is disgusting."

"The choices that others are forced to make by the forces of destiny are not entirely their own blame. You would do well to remember that in the future young prince."

"You speak funny, are you a philosopher? They sometimes come to the palace and give discussions, but I don't understand them most of the time."

"In a manner of speaking."

Arthur's feet itched, already bored with the conversation and eager to explore the cells. His young mind urging him to go somewhere new before he was discovered.

"Well, I want to go explore the cells and get to bed before my father notices that I am missing. I promise to tell him about you, and he'll be sure to set you free."

"Perhaps you will."

"I will." Arthur insisted. "Oh, but what's your name?"

The prisoner was quiet.

"I told you my name, it's only fair you tell me yours," Arthur said rattling the chains for emphasis.

"Killgarrah, my name is killgarrah. Tell your father, UTHER." The voice almost seemed to hiss the last word, Arthur thought.

"Tell your father that I met you, that you were within reach of flame, and that he was able to see you again and he'll know what it means."

"Alright. I will try to remember..." Arthur said solemnly, feeling the responsibility for another man's life for the first time. He didn't think he liked it.

"Kill garrah? Do you think about your family a lot?" Arthur asked, more comfortable asking personal questions because of the gates between them.

"I do not have family Arthur Pendragon."

"Well, your people then? Do you think you'll be able to find them?"

"I know that they will be waiting for me beyond the veil, in the next world."

"What is the next world like?" Arthur almost whispered.

"Why do you ask this young Pendragon?" Killgarrah asked, rather sharply.

"I don't know. I haven't seen you yet, so I don't know if you're royalty or a peasant."

"I never had a-"Killgarrah began.

"No! Please don't tell me!" Arthur pleaded. "If I don't know if you're a peasant I can still talk with you."

"Why do you not speak with one of your own kind then Prince Arthur." The voice said bitterly.

"I do not mean it in a mean way. My father never speaks of this sort of thing, and my tutor is much too mean. So, you're the only one I can ask."

Killgarrah remained silent.

"Please Killgarrah."

"Alright young Pendragon, ask what you will."

"My mother died when I was born, and people tell me she'll be waiting for me, but I don't look like a baby anymore. How will she know who I am?"

"The next world is a mysterious place, but this much is certain. All rational creatures are judged as worthy or unworthy. Were they worthy of the gift of life given to them, or did they waste that gift? All rational creatures, no matter their form, pass onto this next world, be they human or not and so they lose their material form, becoming a pure spiritual embodiment of what had previously been a dual-natured creature. Matter and form become form materialized."

"I don't understand."

"It is difficult, child, to put these things into mere words." A long sigh emanated down the tunnel, then Killgarrah continued. "When you were born, your mother's spirit touched your own, recognizing each other without eyes. When you too pass onto the next world, a day you cannot escape, your spirit will be reunited with hers. She will recognize you immediately. For your body may have aged, little Pendragon, but your spirit is as old as it was upon your birth."

Arthur pondered those thoughts for a moment.

"I suppose so..." He said, not sure if he understood. "But I need to go to bed now... I promise I will tell my father about you tomorrow."

Arthur went to pull the torch from the gate when he paused.

It is awful dark and smelly down there, especially with rats and creatures running around. I know I would be scared if I lived there for years. A candle by the bedside always helped me get a good night's sleep, maybe it would do the same for him.

"Excuse me, Kill...Garrah?"

"Yes, young Pendragon?"

"Thank you for speaking with me. When I found out about you tomorrow we may not be able to talk anymore but...you are just the nicest person I've ever met."

"The boy I speak to now, will either do great evil or great good, but no matter what path you choose, the boy who stands before me now will be long gone."

Arthur did not understand what he meant so he just shrugged it off as a philosophical rambling again. After all, eating rats for years in the dark probably isn't the best for your health, he considered.

"I am going to leave you the torch, can you see it down there?" Arthur said, jamming the wooden handle further between the metal bars.

"Yes... I can."

"It's awful dark down there, and so maybe you won't have bad dreams tonight if you have a light on."

"That is...very kind, young Arthur Pendragon. I wish that destiny were as kind to you as that action merits. Perhaps you will be a good king one day." Killgarrah replied darkly.

"I know I will. I will be just like my father."

And with that, wishing the prisoner goodbye, Arthur scrambled up the stairs on all fours, feeling his way to the top.

* * *

Getting to the top of the stairs, and finally arriving into the light of the dungeon felt terrific, as if he had awoken from some terrifying dream. In fact his conversation with the mysterious man, what was his name? Kill...Garrah? It almost felt like some strange dream or nightmare. Arthur carefully peeped over the top step and looked to the guard's station. The glowing braziers still cast a gentle glow on the pewter plate of half-eaten dinner, yet abandoned.

S _till no guards at the table. That is very odd. I might just have time to go explore the cells._

Wiping the grime from the dungeon steps off of his hands and the dust off of his knees, Arthur looked to his right, down the path of cells, a few torches flickered, casting an inviting glow down them.

 _There shouldn't be anyone in the cells right now, father says all prisoners are tried in advance or executed on feast days. Father said they just emptied them of all prisoners._

Confidently Arthur walked down the hallway until he came to the first barred door. A cramped, unwelcoming cell lay beyond with a small cot, a rough-hewn table and a pitcher of water lay beyond it. A real-life prison cell!

 _I can't believe my father actually puts people here...that's so cool!_

The latch was unlocked, and the door quickly swung open.

"Whoa!" Arthur exclaimed.

With typical seven-year-old curiosity, Arthur walked into the cell, running his hands over the rough table, and peering into the clay pitcher. A nauseating smell of stale beer rose from it. Arthur gagged and put it back. Maybe being a prisoner wasn't all that great.

Then Arthur made his way over to a small cot made out of straw and linen that lay in one corner.  
Maybe this is what it's like to be a peasant! I should try it out.

Arthur lay down on the straw, putting his arms behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. This wasn't so bad he thought, the novelty of his surroundings casting a pleasant charm on the drab environment. Arthur walked around the cell, pretending to be a prisoner, grabbing to the bars of the door and shouted, mimicking the criminals he had seen in court.

"I'm innocent! Let me go! I have a family!" He cried out laughing. Then the smile fell from his face, as he remembered the deep and lonely voice of Killgarrah, locked downstairs. Suddenly the joke seemed less funny.

Arthur exited the cell, pensively considering the man locked in the very bottom of the castle for over ten years and the idea that someone could be arrested wrongly.  
 _Is it possible to arrest the wrong person by accident? Could my father have ever locked someone in here accidentally?_

He slid the door shut with a bang, all amusement was gone from his face.

Maybe there was more to being a grown-up he didn't understand yet, he realized.

"I've got you, you little rat!"

A sturdy pair of rough hands seized Arthur by the arm, grabbing him and throwing him up into the air and on his shoulder.  
"Hey, let me go! I demand you let me go this instant!"

His captor ignored him, walking back towards the far end of the cells, pulling open a door and throwing Arthur down inside.

If this was a guard, Arthur knew he was going to make him lose his job for that! How dare he throw him around?

"Hey, what are you doing you fool? You cannot touch a member of the royal family like that!"

That was when Arthur looked up and saw his captor. A tall, bearded man with a gnarled brown beard and fierce glinting eyes, dressed in a black pair of breeches and shirt stained with blood.

This was no guard? Where was the red tunic, the golden dragon emblazoned proudly? Where were the firm but kind eyes that so many guards had when looking at him?

Arthur screamed and scrambled backward in the cell. The man just leered in amusement. Arthur kept moving away until he bumped into something. Into someone's leg. Turning, Arthur saw the body of a royal guard, laying on his side, a small pool of blood from his neck. The blank blue eyes stared fishlike at the terrified little boy.

Suddenly the plate with a half ate a sandwich and the pint of ale made sense. The guard hadn't left his job willingly, in fact, he had been murdered and stuffed into this cell by what Arthur could only assume was a prisoner.

"Well, a member of the royal family? It really is my lucky day isn't it?"

The murderer harshly laughed once and lunged forward eagerly.

Arthur screamed.

* * *

(Insert dramatic cliff hanger music here!)

Eh...I know, I know. Two updates in one week. What am I thinking? I just love homework procrastination I guess.

I just always wondered, if it was so easy for Merlin to get to the dungeon with Killgarrah, why did Arthur never find it?

This is the answer to that question, and why Arthur never went down there as an adult.

Next week I will finish up this dungeon sub plot and move along the forgery plot line. Then in chapter 10 I will finish the forgery plotline and begin...are you ready for it? Drumroll please! THE POISONED CHALICE! Woooo I am so excited!

Please leave a review if you enjoyed it!

Beth


	9. It All Comes DownMistaken Identity Pt4

**Ugh, why is this taking me so long to write, I really hate college papers!**

 **Here we are at the end of the dungeon sub plot and drawing close to the end of the forgery plotline, I will then take a few chapters to do the poisoned chalice REALLY fleshed out. If any of you have any suggestions as to which stories from season 1 I should cover, let me know!**

 **Special thanks to gingeraffaleane (I hope I am spelling that right) and Ruby890 and Vanvdreamer who have been some of the most consistent reviewers!**

* * *

 _ **Arthur POV**_

 _ **8 years Old**_

 _ **In the Camelot Dungeons**_

It was the night of a great feast of diplomatic celebrations, shown by the countless noble coat of arms dancing on banners on Camelot's great parapets. Every wall, outside and inside the castle were festooned with evergreen branches and scarlet banners.

Dozens of couples danced in long lines down Camelot's great hall, long skirts and capes flashed in the burning candlelight. Lilting laughter, music, and rustling of busy servers filled the air above ground. Seated at the far end, with his trusted advisors at his side the king smiled magnanimously at the good natured revelry before him. But below ground, at the King's very feet, a very different reality was taking shape.

In the dark, closed bowels of the basement, the young prince Arthur had dared explore the dungeon alone, and now found himself in a cell between the bleeding body of the incapacitated guard and the murderer who stood filling every inch of the cell with his large frame. He reached out a hand for Arthur's arm and pushed him sprawling on his back, exposing the fine embroidered tunic blazing with Camelot's emblem on the front.

"Well, what do we have here? A nobleman come all the way down here just to pay poor Binro a visit." The hulking stranger in black clothes gave a mock half bow, his knife wielding hand sweeping out towards Arthur. Arthur ducked down instinctively, his head nearly touching the floor. "You're a long way from Mummy and Daddy, aren't ye?" He said in his rasping but lilting accent that told Arthur he probably fared from the isles. It was somewhat similar to the rough accent of his tutor, though unsoftened by years in Camelot as his tutor's was.

Hot tears stung Arthur's eyes, and he wanted to cry, but he remembered the warning voice of his tutor insisting _It is unmanly, young Arthur to cry or show fear, and as the future king, you must never show weakness, remember that._ Arthur realized, looking down the length of that glittering sharp blade, that it was a lot harder in reality to do. Nevertheless, he smeared the tears on the back of his hand, and forced what he hoped was an angry or terrifying look on his face.

"Come on now, whose are you?"

Arthur glanced over at the slumped form of the guard. Could he just be unconscious? Maybe he would awaken and save him. The pool of blood by the body was not growing anymore. Arthur desperately tried to remember if that was a good or bad thing.

Binro lunged forward with an impatient growl, and picked Arthur up, slamming him against the wall.

"Whose whelp are ye, are ye dumb boy?" He said, digging the knife uncomfortably against Arthur's tiny sternum.

Arthur's breath raced, and he looked around for anything, anyone that might help him. God, he wished he was in his bedroom right now, he just wanted to be near his tutor or his father. Why had he ever thought it was a good idea to explore the dungeons?

"Look at me!" The prisoner hissed, clamping Arthur's face in his free hand. "You don't want to talk? Fine, look at him, look at him why don't you? I made him sing alright, I dug my knife in his throat and made him sing his heart out."

Arthur's widened eyes just stared in blind panic at the knife approaching his own throat.

"Shall I make you sing? What is your name boy!"

Suddenly, Arthur thought of that deep lonely voice in the dungeon. Kilgarrah, the prisoner who had been forgotten. He knew it was impossible, but in a moment of blind instinct Arthur cried out to him in panic.

"Kilgarrah, KILGARRAH!" He screamed full force out the door of the cell, hoping against hope his voice would somehow travel down those twisting stone steps.

 _Kilgarrah, please help me, I'm so scared._

Binro strangely grinned and loosened his hold on the terrified boy.

"What, is Kilgarrah your name? If it isn't, don't think any of your friends can hear ye laddie. They made these dungeons so thick that the screams of us miserable prisoners wouldn't be heard by those rich folk up above."

Arthur felt a heavy stone settle in his stomach as he realized that the scary man was right.

"Now, little master, I need you to help me out of this place." The knife made a sudden re-appearance as the man seized Arthur's right hand, and placed the blade against his fingers, like a chef about to peel a potato.

"If you want to return to your mummy and daddy in one piece I suggest you help me."

He pressed down slightly on the skin of Arthur's thumb, slightly cutting it.

Arthur screamed in pain and pulled away, his tiny arm slipping from the man's massive grip.

All of a sudden, the cell rocked and shaked from the sound of a massive rumble coming from beneath their feet.

* * *

 **Uther Pendragon**

Uther Pendragon, though still a relatively young man, felt much older than his years, and was prematurely graying in proof of it. He sat at the banquet with an empty smile on his face as the nobles feasted about him.

He hated crowds.

He really hated people, rather staying in his study reading or on the field practicing swordplay in relative solitude, but a good king is also a good politician he reminded himself. So when Lady Aneira made some mindless joke about the music he forced a laugh as he downed another glass of wine.

Lady Aneira was but the latest in a long line of women looking to replace his dear wife, but though he attempted to force himself to find another bride for the good of the kingdom, when he looked into their faces and saw how their minds little compared with his dear Ygraine.

Ygraine.

A swell of memories threatened to rise to the surface, so Uther stifled them, locking them back away where they belonged.

Along with the rest of his former self.

A dark thought occurred to him as he pushed them back down.

 _Maybe you can't find a bride to satisfy you, not because they do not equal Ygraine but because you are not as good a man as you once were._

SLAM.

The memories were sealed mentally back where they belonged.

"My lord?"

Lady Aneira was looking at him, her elegant arched eyebrows knitted together in genuine concern.

"Are you alright?"

Uther opened his mouth to respond when a strong quake shook the castle, dancers immediately stopped, and diners jumped up from their tables, looking warily at the walls around them. A few hysterical people screamed but most looked to Uther, to see how he reacted.

"Lords and ladies, this is probably nothing, just a quake, but I suggest we all go to the courtyard, servants bring torches, guards escort them on their way out."

Thus appeased by his calm demeanor, most of the guests nervously laughed and made their way out of the great hall. They had no idea of the cold fury currently coursing through their king.

He knew that sound, and it wasn't a quake, it was that accursed beast of sorcery down in his dungeons.

Uther stopped a number of the knights from leaving, grabbing their forearms and pulling them back.

"You, come with me. Be quiet about it, but grab as many as you can find and follow me to the dungeons."

Uther swung out his sword and stalked to the dungeons, already contemplating how it was that the creature could have gotten loose.

Another rumble, this one louder, shook the castle, and a display of spears came tumbling down by the king. He ignored it. That creature would pay for disturbing his guests. He was lucky he had even let him live in the first place.

* * *

 **Arthur Pendragon**

The loud rumbling below the castle had startled Binro and Arthur, knocking them both about for a moment. As the rumbling paused, Arthur had tried to duck beneath the murderer's arm and reach the open door, but he was grabbed around the throat and yanked backwards. Arthur bit down on the exposed flesh of the arm, causing his captor to roar in pain. He pulled his arm away and whipped Arthur around to face him, slapping him across the face firmly.

"Very well, you little mammet, you want to fight hard do you?"

He raised his arm up to strike again, but Arthur sobbed and shirked away, all pretense of being brave gone.

"How many guards are there on the stairs above?" Binro growled.

The ground shook with even fiercer intensity.

"I-I-I don't know, a few. There's a party, and-and- most of them are guarding the walls." Arthur sobbed.

"A party huh? Good. Were there any guards in the passage above? Think boy?"

"No! None. Let me go." Arthur pushed ineffectively at the man's arms, wiggling to get free.

"Oh no, you don't. I need you as a form of surety. It'll be the first bit of work you've probably done in your life you little noble brat." Binro dug his knife into Arthur's side, as the boy gasped in pain. "Now, one more scream out of you, and I'll make you squeal like a stuck pig. Understand?"

Arthur cringed in pain as the blade got deeper. This man was a criminal-pain-he would be doing a bad thing if-pain-.

"Yes, I'll help you."

Suddenly, a loud clattering of footsteps rang out down the dungeon steps. The metallic cling of chainmail and the rasp of swords from sheaths made Arthur's heart leap with excitement.

 _It was his father!_

The cold knife was pressed against Arthur's throat as Binro ominously whispered in his ears. "Not a word, boy."

Arthur realized that the knife was wet, and he felt strangely sick as he realized that it was wet with his own blood.

His vision began to dance before him, whether from anxiety or injury he didn't know.

The king's strong voice rang out,

"When we go down there, I want you to stand clear of the metal gate guarding the path. Keep your eyes peeled, there's no telling what type of sorcery we may face."

Arthur realized that his father was not going to go down the cells. He must think that he was down with Killgarrah.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur wiggled his mouth clear of Binro's fingers and let out a scream for his father, a name he hadn't used for him since he was much younger

"Da, help me!" Binro hissed and backed up into the far end of the cell, stumbling awkwardly over the guard's body and dragging Arthur with him.

The king and seven guards rushed into the open space of the cell door, and Arthur could barely see them through the tears that blurred his vision.

"Da!" He pleaded before Binro placed the knife in the crook of his neck, cutting him off.

"Oh, so he's your son, is he? Little sneak didn't tell me he was a prince." Binro dug the knife in a bit, making Arthur flinch and close his eyes.

Uther visibly rocked back at the sight, and all color drained from his face.

"Let him go." Uther demanded. "You've no where to run."

Binro snorted in amusement and shook Arthur tauntingly.

"If I let him go, I swing from the rope anyway. I might as well make you suffer a little before I do." He said menacingly, acting like an animal cornered.

Uther's voice took on a glacial chill, "Who said anything about the rope."

The statement made Binro pause.

"If you don't let my son free, " Uther insisted. "I will have the court physician devise the slowest possible means of execution, making sure that your pain is excruciating but not enough to kill you. Let. Him. Go."

Binro licked his lips nervously and glanced around dangerously.

"Well, since I'm already a dead man," He began, tilting Arthur's head back by the hair as if to slice his neck.

Arthur sobbed.

Uther screamed in fury.

But at that moment, a third rumble, louder than all the others, shook the room so severely that Binro lost his balance, temporarily loosening his hold on Arthur. Dropping to all fours Arthur scuttled over the guard's body and slammed full force into the open arms of his father, who placed his sword arm in front of them protectively. Tucking his face into the darkness of his cape, Arthur shook both with the quake and the force of his cries.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, the quake ended. Arthur kept his eyes firmly screwed shut as he heard Binro get dragged away by the guards.

"We execute him, at first light!" Uther shouted after them.

Binro cackled as they dragged him with difficulty towards a new cell. He twisted in the arms of his captor, his gleaming eyes searching out Arthur's.

"Goodbye your highness, I'm sorry you have to see the kind of man your father really is."

"Don't you look at him, you _vermin_." Uther said.

The guards halted so that the King could address him. Binro tossed his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes and fixed the king with a steely eyed glare.

"One day, when the Ysbryd have risen again, you'll hold your son's dead body in your arms. I merely want to be able to picture it. Aye, you'll be just so, holding him close. Only the knife won't miss the lad that time."

Uther snarled at his knights to take him away, before he executed him right there, and if it weren't for the little arms wrapped around him, he might have still done it.

"Da, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Arthur cried into his father's tunic, pressing out the sounds of the knights and guards mourning their friend and pulling him out of the cell.

"Damn it, Arthur. What were you thinking? How could you be so foolish?" Uther said.

Arthur just hiccupped on his tears and remained silent.

Finally the fog of battle dropped from his mind and Uther realized everything that had just happened.

He looked down at the little blond head pressing desperately against him and the thin arms wrapped in a vise grip about his chest.

His son.

Uther looked at his weapon, still in his right hand, and down to the open cut on the side of Arthur's neck. He dropped his sword and sunk to the ground embracing Arthur, in a rare display of affection.

"Oh my son." Uther choked on his words and bent down, kissing the top of the blond head fiercely.

All that he had left of Ygraine, and he had almost lost him.

The future king, his son gone in an instant. He'd never make such a mistake again, letting him out of his sight and in the reach of danger. It was foolish. Damned foolish.

"I just wanted to see the dungeons while they were empty, and-and." Arthur said, his voice still shaky.

"Shhh. We'll talk about it later." Uther said awkwardly, realizing that his son felt foreign in his own arms.

 _When was the last time I held him in my arms?_

That dark voice from before whispered angrily.

 _Since he died in Ygraine's arms you fool._

Uther walked Arthur all the way up to his chambers, chasing away the servants who normally arrived to take care of him, and yelling for the Court Physician. He paced anxiously until Gaius arrived, watching anxiously as the older man applied salves to his cuts. As soon as he completed his work, Uther sent everyone away.

Uther closed the door as the last visitor left, and as he spun around he saw Arthur sitting up on his bed awkwardly looking at everything _except_ his father.

 _Clearly the boy feels awkward with you being here, at least the feeling is mutual._

Uther quieted that voice again, and decided to relish, just this once in being the one to take care of Arthur. While he **was** angry, that could wait tomorrow. For now he was content to just tuck his son into bed, watching his chest rise and fall as he calmed down.

Arthur's heart still beat rapidly and occasionally he would jump in alarm as he began to drowse off to sleep, clearly still troubled by the memory of that ...that monster touching him with his filthy hands.

Uther decided that he wanted to be there for the execution tomorrow, maybe even the one to enact it himself. How dare he trouble his innocent little boy with thoughts and memories like that?

"Father."

Uther looked down to see Arthur gazing up at him, his eyes two wide blue orbs.

"Go to sleep Arthur, I'm right here."

"Father, what about Killgarrah?"

Uther felt his blood crystallize in his veins.

"What did you say?"

He had nearly forgotten the rumbling beneath the castle, it all forgotten in the chaos to save Arthur.

"Don't be mad, but before that man grabbed me I went down an old tunnel in the dungeon, you wouldn't know it." Arthur said simply.

But Uther did know it. He remembered locking the chain around the gate quite clearly.

"There's a man down there, he was a prisoner before you became king, and-and everybody forgot he was down there. We have to let him go, don't we?"

Uther's mind raced. So, he hadn't _seen_ the Dragon. But what had he told him? Fear, all of his dark secrets threatening to poison his son.

The king cleared his throat and shifted his position on the bed. "What did he say to you?"

Arthur's eyes drifted in thought.

"He said that a bad king put him down there, that he was innocent, he said, he said, oh! He said to tell you that I was close enough to reach fire or something and that you were able to see me again?"

Uther's heart did flip flops in his chest, as he processed all of this.

Could it be that the creature had roared in order to save Arthur? It seemed likely, as there had not been another rumble since the encounter.

"Father, shouldn't we let him go?" Arthur looked over the edge of the blanket at him.

No. No matter what the beast had done. He had still threatened his son. He had still been the cause of great suffering. Sorcerers could do good in order to deceive, but they could not be genuinely good people.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I _sent_ guards down to investigate the tunnel to find the source of the noise, and they told me that there was a collapse in the caves beneath the castle.

Arthur's mouth formed a silent O as he looked at his dad in horror.

"If there was a prisoner down there, I'm afraid the quake collapsed the cave around him. There is no way down that tunnel anymore. But, he is at peace now."

Arthur began to cry again, turning onto his side away from his father.

Uther sighed heavily and stroked Arthur's hair as he fell asleep.

"No man, is worth _your_ tears." He said insistently.

Arthur fell asleep like that, his father smoothing his hair.

The next morning Arthur rolled over to find his bed empty, and just like that, he was alone again.

* * *

 **Arthur POV**

 **Present Day**

 **Gate Town**

Side by side, two young men approached Gate-town, leading their horses. Each like the shadow of the other, the one in fine attire with blond hair and the other in simple clothes and dark unruly hair. Though it would have been difficult to tell who was in the other's shadow as they walked up to the inn. A keen observer might have noticed the slight slump to the noble's shoulders and the nervous pivot of his head, he might also notice that the young men walked shoulder to shoulder, keeping in even pace together like a mirror image, their steps and arms swinging in unison.

Of course, hardly anyone was in the mood to be _keen_ at mid-day on a busy town street.

Merlin _had_ in fact noticed that the Prince was allowing him to walk by his side instead of a pace behind as most knights did, though given the Prince's generally arrogant behavior most times, and his distracted behavior today this was probably just an oversight.

The people in town bustled about in their work, but it became quickly became obvious to the two strangers that everyone was keeping one eye on them in curiosity, but not in hostility. Strangers were not usually found on the outskirts of the kingdom.

A cart drawn by two huge black beasts suddenly rounded the corner before them, blocking the path and kicking up mud before them. Arthur instinctively reached out an arm, gripping the front of Merlin's shirt and pushing his day-dreaming servant back.

"Doesn't that half-witted fool look where he's going?" Arthur hissed at the retreating cart driver.

Merlin looked down at the hand on the front of his shirt, twisting his mouth into a confused frown; the prince's fist was still tightly wrapped in his tunic and the young man's face was still clouded with anger.

"Bit tense are we?" Merlin jibed.

"No!"Arthur shot back defensively. Before looking down to see his hand still snatched onto Merlin's tunic.

Merlin raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him with a goofy lopsided grin, which made Arthur let go of the shirt with a huff.

"You need to be more careful, I don't want to have to be slowed down because you are stuck nursing a broken limb."

Words went unsaid in Arthur's mind as they crossed the now newly softened muddy path crossed with the wagon tracks.

 _Of course I'm tense. These people are more loyal to Lord Thurmond than my father and I'm here to call their precious ruler a fool or a liar._

Unaware of this internal dialogue, the servant just rolled his eyes at the behavior, and hoisted the bag more comfortably over his shoulder, being all skin and bones, the wide leather strap cut uncomfortably on his shoulder.

In an attempt to distract himself, Arthur began to take in his surroundings. Maybe he could find a tavern for them before long.

The bright noonday sun shone down on the bare pates of the peasant folk who mingled in the streets. A cobbler sat on his front stoop enjoying the fresh air. A chandler brought out wooden racks covered with long white candles. The pleasant sounds of a lute blew in with the breeze but was mostly indistinguishable from the laughing, talking, squawking and hammering of the town square.

Arthur felt like an foreigner in his own kingdom. Sure he'd been to such small villages as this on missions for his father, but they were rarely peaceful or prolonged.

When was the last time he had been to a small village...

A putrid smell of smoke and ash flooded Arthur's nose, and the sounds of screams filled his ears as a memory washed over him.

 _People had died, citizens suffering for war, sure it wasn't Camelot's fault exactly, but wasn't guilty of something in war?_

A horrible weight of long buried trauma threatened to burst forth, as Arthur felt all the eyes of the villagers were turned to him, judging him for his past actions. His throat felt tight, and suddenly his chain-mail felt suffocating. He needed to get away, get out of this little backwater with all these strangers looking at him. He needed to be back behind Camelot's walls, where it was safe.

"Arthur! I found it."

Merlin's voice broke through the dark swirl of thoughts, pulling Arthur back to reality.

His servant stood ahead under the dark awning of a somewhat modest tavern. A peeling wooden sign adorned with a yellow cat swung just above the youth's head.

"Very good Merlin," Arthur called out, "you're not as clueless as you look."

Merlin tilted his head in amusement. "That's rich coming from the man heading towards the blacksmith shop."

Arthur looked up and realized that he was, in fact, nearly inside the mentioned building. The barrel chested owner of the shop stood, his hammer raised mid strike over the hot anvil, and just looked at the distracted young noble with a guarded expression.

Heat rushed to Arthur's cheeks as he backed away. Trying to maintain the semblance of pride he nodded curtly to the man to return to where his servant stood.

Arthur looked at the servant and scowled when he saw

"Well don't just stand there Merlin, put up our horses." Arthur said with annoyance, leading his horse to the stable.

"Why, what will you be doing?" The servant replied sarcastically.

"Not buying you a meal if you continue with that attitude." Arthur said, dropping the the horse's lead into the servant's hand and going down the steps.

Merlin was left to drag both horses into the stables, "There's just no pleasing him sometimes." He muttered in annoyance.

Arthur's steed huffed in agreement, gently nibbling the shoulder of Merlin's jacket.

"Yeah," Merlin said, patting the horse's neck, "I thought you'd agree."

The medium sized inn was rather low and cramped with the dining area actually a few feet below ground, but that usually was a good sign that the rooms upstairs would be large and airy. Very few locals sat inside, as it was not quite time for the midday meal. a few men stood just by the entrance, nursing their frothing cups of ale as they looked out on the busy street. Arthur had to turn sideways to squeeze past them, they showed no signs of moving for him.

One of the men, a thin grizzly hunter with a few day's' growth on his face and neck, looked Arthur up and down appraisingly. Arthur almost felt like a wild bear whose pelt was being eyed up for sale. As intimidating as their inhospitality was, Arthur did not back down and continued to squeeze up against them, making sure that he made direct eye contact with the hunter, their noses inches apart.

Arthur challenged the stranger to try anything, and the stranger finally broke away with a grin looking back outside.

Then, with a wave of fresh open air, Arthur stepped into the cookery. He unclasped his cloak and lay it on the table, taking a stool next to it.

Within moments a man, the cook and most likely innkeeper as well, with skin as browned and hardened as leather, rushed up.

"What can I do for you boy?"

Arthur swallowed his annoyance at the address, he was too far from Camelot to make a fuss over that.

"A room for two please, and some food, what ever you have available."

"This is a country inn," he groused, "we have large communal rooms, there's a room with six beds, one with four, and one with three. I can put you in the one with three but there's no promises that a third person won't show up wanting a room."

 _Communal rooms! Ugh, of course, what was I thinking, this far away from civilization it might as well be a Barbarian camp._

Arthur paid the innkeep a little reluctantly and turned about to watch the strange men who lingered by the door. Those were dangerous sorts of men, he could tell with a soldier's instinct. The kind that enjoyed pushing others about, like a cat playing with a mouse.

He would never have admitted it to himself, but he felt a slight gnaw of concern that Merlin might be stupid enough to try something with that unkempt hunter.

 _Like he had with me,_ Arthur thought, a tiny smirk threatened to appear before he fought that back.

A young girl, probably no more than thirteen, with thin wispy hair, a gaunt over grown child with clothing too big for her appeared from behind the bar, two bowls in hand.

"Here, stew." The hurried teenage girl said as she flew by Arthur's table, slamming down two heavy wooden bowls filled with the mystery food.

"Uh, what kind?" Arthur asked.

The girl just shrugged non-chalantly and rushed to the next table, clearly she was related to the owner if she did not fear a reprisal.

 _I wonder if that yellow cat on the sign is any indication of what this is?_ He thought darkly, lifting up some mysterious looking meat stuff up with his spoon.

His musings were cut short by the flying dark shape of his servant, who slammed down in the chair opposite him.

"Is that stew? What- "

"Don't bother asking me what type it is, girl had no idea."

Merlin pulled his bowl forward, curiously staring into its amber depths.

 _Those_ men...Arthur whipped back around and looked at the doorframe but clear sunlight streamed through unhindered.

"Did you see any men when you came through the door?" Arthur asked anxiously.

Merlin looked up, his spoon halfway to his lips, and followed Arthur's gaze over his shoulder.

"No. What men?" He asked.

Arthur waved the question away.

"Probably nothing."

The last thing he wanted for a servant to know that he felt paranoid, that he wasn't exactly fighting fit. "So, as soon as I've finished eating, I'm going to make my way up to the great house to announce myself to Lord Thurmond, while you will go around and ask the locals for information...what Merlin?"

"I still think that we should go together, something could happen." Merlin said shortly.

"Even if it did, what would you do Merlin? Trip over them? No, we will stick to MY plan."

Arthur took a bite of his stew, and screwed his face up like a baby in disgust.

 _That_ _was either cat or a very stringy veal, either way, there was no way Arthur was going to eat that._

* * *

 **Huh. So, final word count tells me that I should probably split this into two separate chapters, but you know what? No, I'm not gonna. Why? BECAUSE I WANT TO GET THIS STORY MOVING GOSH DARN IT.**

 **Ahem.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this story, and I think it makes somewhat of some sense why Arthur never questioned about that pathway down into the caves of the castle. I imagine that he would probably have some guilt for leaving "Kilgarrah" there, and tended to avoid it.**

 **Also, yeah, I included that "no man is worth your tears." line that Arthur said to Merlin when his father died. Why? I'm sadistic that's why. :P**

 **I hope Uther didn't seem too OOC, because this is a high stress situation, and if I were to do a chapter of the next day or two, he'd be back to the old, avoidant, rude, arrogant Uther we all know and tolerate.**

 **Please leave a review if you enjoyed or shoot me a message, because receiving reviews is the one thing that motivates me to step away from my studies to do this.**

 **Beth**


	10. Mistaken Identity Part 5

"Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . ."

C.S Lewis

"Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit."

Aristotle

* * *

The prince, young Arthur, future regent of the free peoples of Camelot, heir to the Pendragon line, stood sourly overlooking his current domain. Gone were the vast clean halls of Camelot's castle, and gone were the bustling servants making everything perfect. The feather bed was replaced by three cots with rope bed frames and bursting straw mattresses. The large window with a view of the courtyard below was gone, replaced by a smoke-tinged single paned square that looked out onto the yard of the blacksmith shop echoing monotonously with the banging of the anvil. Everything was gone. Except that was, for the single servant awkwardly bounding about the room putting their things away. Merlin.

Arthur had not yet decided what to make of the gangly young man who had come blundering into his life. And to think, it had only been two weeks since they had met, was it really that recent? It felt like ages ago to him. The witch...the knife flying through the air. Goodness knows how he, a clumsy young man who had yet to grow into his height had managed to react quicker than he, a warrior trained from childhood. Perhaps it was the shock, Arthur considered, or maybe as she had been trying to kill him, she had dulled his reflexes through some sort of spell. Perhaps.

Arthur scratched his head in dismissal and turned back to examining the scene outside the window. Life was strange like that; he internally decided. Coincidences happen, people are in the right place at the right time, and lives are changed. Just an accident that a total buffoon, alright well perhaps not complete buffoon ended up becoming his servant, and decided not to leave. That again was the problem...why hasn't he left? He could get more sleep working with Gaius, he could do more intellectual work, which, though Arthur pretended not to notice, was more Merlin's specialty. Every time Arthur left a book on his desk or on his bed, he would see Merlin pause to read the spine or saunter to the bookshelf glancing through the pages. Arthur called his servant an idiot, and though he meant it, he did not mean that Merlin was unintelligent. In fact, barring common sense and physical acumen, he believed Merlin just might be smarter than he.

Arthur glanced back into their hovel of a room and saw Merlin rubbing his shoulder where the heavy burlap bag had cut into his skin. He was not made for physical work, Arthur knew. He even felt guilty when Merlin stumbled and staggered in pain during training or doing chores.

There were servants better equipped for it, so why didn't the boy quit?

Merlin looked up and made eye contact with the prince, he instantly stopped rubbing his shoulder and gave one of those awkward flat smiles someone makes when they don't know if smiling is appropriate. And that was the problem right there. If Merlin would just give up...admit he was wrong...resign his post or even show a bit of genuine hurt when Arthur overloaded him with work or rude comments, the prince might be able to stand him as a servant. But Merlin wouldn't. He responded insult with sarcasm and pain with humor.

It was terribly likable, and Arthur hated it.

He snapped out of his thoughts and spun back into action, clapping his hands together.

"Leave my sword here, in its scabbard but tuck it into my mattress there. I don't want any loose fingers trying to make off with it."

Merlin frowned disapprovingly, his sharp eyebrows drawn down like a snow owl glaring from a tree.

 _Servants are not supposed to let their opinions show on their faces, Merlin,_ Arthur thought with amusement, but not knowing what Merlin thought niggled at the back of his mind.

He paused a second and waited for the boy to say something, but he didn't, turning to grab Arthur's sword and shove it in the ripped corner of the mattress.

Arthur crossed his arms dangerously.

"Merlin." He said.

"Yes?" Merlin asked.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," Merlin replied.

Arthur picked up a balled up sock from Merlin's cot where a few things lay spread out and threw it at the Servant. It bounced off ignored.

"I know you," Arthur said.

"Do you?" Merlin sassed as he pulled out handfuls of straw.

"Well, I know you well enough to know you smile like an idiot at nothing, so whenever you frown there has to be something," Arthur replied clipping his plain red cloak back on, pretending not to be interested in what his servant had to say.

"I don't think you should be going alone, and especially not without your sword," Merlin said

Arthur laughed once.

"I am serious," Merlin said.

"So am I. I already told you, Lord Thurmond knows too well what my father would do if any harm comes to me. The worst that shall happen is that he will refuse an audience with me. I'll see what I can do at the castle; meanwhile you stroll about town and look for answers..." Arthur trailed off as he looked out the window, his eyes catching sight of a person crossing the town square.

"I think you underestimate just how angry-"

"Merlin, shut up and come look at this."

Merlin put down the straw and peered over the prince's shoulder out the window.

Arthur pointed out of it across the blacksmith's yard and into the street where a man, perhaps early thirties, was walking quickly up the path toward the castle.

"I know him."

"I didn't think you'd be friends with anyone who looked that common," Merlin said in surprise.

"Not friends," I don't have friends " I know him from the castle, he was a servant I think."

"What, in Camelot?"

Arthur hummed in agreement and looked at the retreating figure carefully a moment. He was a tall man, thin as a bending reed with longish hair tied back off of his face. Arthur had seen him crossing the courtyard many a morning loaded up with armfuls of scrolls, books, letters or packages. He was probably a courier or page for someone in the castle. He had not seen him in a while Arthur realized. Was he a bad person for not noticing? Of course not. He was a servant he had never spoken to. But Arthur genuinely hoped that someone had noticed that he had left. What a horrible fate to disappear from existence, unnoticed, unmourned.

"Sire..." Merlin began.

Arthur shook his head into focus.

"Go talk to him, he left before you arrived and has no idea who you are. I bet you could strike up an interesting conversation, and maybe figure some things out."

Arthur turned back into the room and headed for the door.

"Be careful, and don't draw too much attention to yourself," Arthur warned as he reached the door.

"You too," Merlin said, with so much sincerity that Arthur glanced back quickly. Merlin was already gathering his things, his back to him, so Arthur shrugged and left the room, the door creaking slowly behind him.

Merlin turned back around and watched the door swing closed.

Arthur pays enough attention to know who the servants are...maybe he's not such an arrogant ass as he pretends to be.

The early afternoon sun had begun to slope its downward descent, casting the area in a softer glow than before. Arthur set out towards the large gridiron gate of the castle, passing the townsfolk who nodded at him as he passed. He could feel their gaze burning into his back as he continued toward the castle.

Merlin was right, Arther acknowledged with a sigh, he was attracting more attention than he had hoped even without any royal insignia. And once he announced his presence at the castle, it was only a matter of time before everyone knew. No doubt everyone knew someone who worked inside.

Arthur scanned the townsfolk with the eye of a soldier, counting able-bodied men approximately, who was armed, where exits were if things should go wrong. Disaster planning was part and parcel with the job.

He passed beneath the castle gate, the cold shadow brushing over him before he plunged into the heart of the town. The most essential town buildings lay within the courtyard walls. An apothecary shop, a small building for religious worship, an armory, merchant shop, and a school and two or three homes. Thurmond hall's heavy oak doors painted black glowered in the shadows across that deceivingly lively little courtyard.

The keep seemed to loom dangerously over Arthur, just like his tutor had over his desk years ago. Arthur straightened his shoulders, put his chest out and approached the large doors with confidence. He reached out with hesitant fingers to touch the cold iron ring of the door. The door swung open quickly revealing a brightly lit hall just beyond the door.

Arthur swallowed hard and pushed down the feelings of fear.

He was a prince. There was no time for fear in the face of your enemies, whether on the battlefield or in the home.

The surprisingly large hall was covered by a thick blue carpet woven no doubt by the skillful masters in the east. Cool gray, green and blue stained glass windows cast a vibrant light in the room, and though Arthur was sure it was only his imagination, he could not help but notice the striking opposite colors of Camelot in almost every respect. Though it was not a castle, and no throne was present the hall did open on the far end at a large table where chairs were arranged before a massive fireplace, unlit but with a stack of wood ready to be burned.

A sallow colored man with salt and pepper hair approached Arthur, his hands folded at his chest like a priest. Most likely a steward.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Yes, I am here to speak with Lord Thurmond. It is a matter of some urgency." Arthur replied.

The steward's eyes took a quick appraisal of the young man before him.

"Are you looking to become a knight in Lord Thurmond's service? You'd best speak to the captain outside."

He has a captain of the guard? Arthur thought in some alarm.

"No. I am not. It is, as I said, a matter of some urgency."

The man looked down his nose at Arthur for some time then nodded curtly.

"Come this way, take a seat before the fire, and I shall fetch him."

"Thank you," Arthur said, unclipping his cloak and folding it over his arm.

"Shall I tell him who is calling upon him, or is that too a matter of some urgency." The steward said, his eyes crinkling in slight amusement.

"A son of a friend, replying to his letter lately sent to my father."

The steward threw up his hands in defeat before urging Arthur into one of the oversized chairs and rushing out a side door. Arthur draped the cloak over the back of the chair before sitting. He remained for some time, waiting for Lord Thurmond. He knew that in all likelihood his description to the steward should lead little doubt in his mind as to his identity.

A few minutes passed.

Arthur took to examining the hem of his tunic. Flawlessly done but for one string coming undone. Arthur began to pick at that string.

It only made it worse.

Speaking of making things worse made Arthur think about Merlin, and what he could possibly be doing...

What if he gave away too much to the townsfolk. What if those strange men from the inn tried to jump him?

A door opening made Arthur jump and touch his waist where his sword was usually hilted. The phantom sword sensation was quite unnerving. Though to Arthur's surprise, the side door that the Steward had opened remained closed. It was a door somewhere behind him. Arthur tensed as he heard the footsteps approaching behind him. Walking softly in what could be an attempt to catch him off guard. Arthur's fingers gripped around the arms of the chair and waited like a hawk.

Just as the footsteps picked up speed within arm's reach of the chair, Arthur quickly stood up and spun about to face the arrival.

"MERLIN!?"

The servant grinned guiltily.

 _He knew I would be here...that fool is determined to follow isn't he._

"Sire!... Isn't it weird how you just bump into people...in the great hall..."

Arthur rushed over to his side, grabbing his arm roughly.

"What are you doing here? He hissed.

"That person you sent me to find sent me this way with the name of someone to talk to," Merlin said, shaking Arthur's arm off.

"Who, never mind, you can tell me about that tonight, get out of here before they-"

"Arthur Pendragon!" A loud booming voice cut across the hall.

Merlin awkwardly stepped in front of Arthur, and if Arthur did not know his servant to be a coward, he could have sworn that he did it protectively. Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed the servant back with annoyance. He was such a clumsy oaf sometimes.

The steward had re-emerged trailing behind a large man with thick black curls that framed his face. A trimmed beard that did not reach his chest framed his hard mouth. His clothes were simple, but clearly well made. He made no attempts to appear a king, but his castle and knights said otherwise. Everything his father had said about him was conflicting, he had been described as Uther's right hand, his shield, but everything had endly badly. Arthur did not know why, and it had been years since he'd last been introduced.

Arthur nodded his head in respect, unable to bow as a prince but wanting to show proper respect to a man in his own home.

"Lord Thurmond I have come in response to your letter."

"I know it." The man waved his steward off who melted off into the shadows. Arthur knew he was probably listening just behind the door, as most servants did. He then turned his hard eyes over Arthur's shoulder to Merlin.

"And this is?"

"My manservant Merlin," Arthur said.

Merlin swept low in a bow.

"Do you wish your manservant to hear what must be said between us?" Thurmond asked critically.

Arthur looked over at Merlin who frowned and subtly shook his head, asking Arthur not to send him away.

"My manservant will be no trouble...he is...in fact, um, mute," Arthur said turning back to Thurmond.

Merlin squinted at Arthur in annoyance but gestured to his ears at Lord Thurmond nodding.

"Ah, I see. I imagine it must be most inconvenient." Thurmond said to Arthur.

Arthur fought back a wicked grin.

"Well, it can be a pleasant change not having to listen to a manservant who prattles on all day." He said.

Thurmond shrugged, his motion revealing a large sword hanging at his side. Arthur glanced down at it for a second, before looking the man square in the eyes.

"Let us sit." The Lord said formally.

Too civil in fact, Arthur considered, given why he was here. Arthur decided that given his personality it was best, to be frank.

They sat across from each other, Merlin behind Arthur's chair.

"Lord Thurmond, you seem surprisingly gracious given the...uh, tone of your letter," Arthur said.

He waved away the comment with a large hand.

"Emotions were running high when I wrote it. I understand the situation is not ideal, especially given my relationship with your father, but what is done is done. If you are to be my son, I want to start things off properly. With civility if not respect."

Arthur cringed internally. He was not going to react to this well.

"Lord Thurmond, I know that I speak as my father thinks, that you are a well-respected man, noble, courageous, no one in the land, except the Pendragons, commands such respect." Merlin coughed slightly behind him. Arthur went on. "There is, however, a mistake. Your daughter's child is not mine. Though she has been at court months ago, I was unaware of her presence until just before my journey."

Lord Thurmond shot up angrily from his chair, looking every inch a black bear rising up on its hind legs. Arthur stood up as well, hands out to placate.

"I understand how that must appear to you, sir."

"Appear? You call my daughter a liar then, do you?" He demanded.

"No, sir, perhaps a bewitchment was put upon her, or some fallacious attempt to mislead or confuse her."

"I understand your embarrassment young man, but attempts to get out of this are pointless. That letter was found in YOUR OWN HAND. Or do you dare to deny that as well."

"I do sir, I deny it strongly." Arthur insisted. "Listen, if I could but speak to the Lady Etienne, maybe I could get to the bottom of this."

Lord Thurmond took a step forward, and Arthur fought the urge to step backward. Merlin stepped around the chair to Arthur's side.

"What, so you can try to bribe her into silence? My daughter's virtue is not so easily purchased." Thurmond growled.

"No, not at all. But I did not rob your daughter of her virtue. Though I am greatly grieved on your account, I cannot take claim for something that is not my own fault." He protested.

"Get out of my home, you pendragon swine, you're your father's son for certain." Thurmond said. "You will marry my daughter, or by thunder, I'll rain hell down on your family."

Arthur really wished he still had his sword but raised his chin in defiance.

"I will ignore that comment about my father, but what you speak is treason Lord Thurmond. I would watch how you speak."

Thurmond growled and withdrew loudly from the chamber the door swinging shut behind him. The steward re-appeared from the shadows, his face pale and eyes panicked. He walked the two young men to the door in total silence.

Merlin grabbed Arthur's cloak and spun it onto the prince's shoulders. As he reached around to clip it, he whispered to Arthur. "That went well."

Arthur just glared at Merlin before pushing through the keep's heavy doors with a bang.

Merlin just smiled silently at the steward, made a few motions of what appeared to be gratitude and then followed after the Prince.

* * *

Howdy. I know it's been a while since I have posted. I hope you enjoyed this little scene. I know, I know, it's not all that long. It's about the average length of previous chapters, but that last one was just soo long.

Anyway, I'm excited to be finishing the Mistaken Identity plotline then onto the poisoned chalice chapters. Also, if you ever have any idea of story things, one-shots, scenes you've always wanted Merlin and Arthur to do. Please message me. This story has the luxury of not only including canon stories but in canon ones as well. For example, if you always wanted a "Merlin thinks Arthur is dead story" or if you want an amusing, "Morgana and Arthur have an awesome adventure pre-Merlin season 1" Let me know. I would love to oblige.

Beth


	11. Mistaken Identity Part 6

Gate-Town

 **Merlin POV**

You too." Merlin said, as Arthur dashed out of their rather cramped quarters and towards an uncertain fate.

It was almost as if the young sorceror were on a hinge, turning around as the door swung closed. All pretense of doing chores dropped away, along with the extra cloak Merlin had been folding. The young man strode towards the window with uncharacteristic grace. Had he the closest friend who observed him at all times and knew of his secret, that friend might tell Merlin that though he was typically a clumsy and tottering oaf; when concerning matters of Arthur, there crept in a gravitas to his aura that was quite noticeable.

However, the young man was anything but self-aware, and as he had no close friend to make this observation, he gazed down at the town square through the window, unaware of his importance, and unaware of his power.

 _What a total fool. He shouldn't be going in there alone! Especially if this Lord...Thurmond was it? Especially if he and Uther had a falling out. Not that I'd blame him...in fact, maybe it speaks well of Thurmond's character that he does NOT like Uther. I'm rambling now, aren't I?_

Merlin saw the shiny blond head pop up beneath the eaves of the building and march firmly across the town square, his red cloak flowing outward with an amusing air of dramatics.

From above it was easy to see the people part in his path, like small wooden vessels moving out of the way of a ship with a large red sail.

Merlin reached up to the smudged glass with a pale long finger and tapped it once.

"Yes, you blend in perfectly." He spoke at Arthur's head.

Almost as if the prince heard, he spun about and squinted back up at the tavern. Seeing Merlin standing at the window, the Prince rolled his eyes and pointed angrily in the direction the long-haired haired man had disappeared.

The long-haired...former servant...who once worked in Camelot... Merlin sighed explosively and squinted back in annoyance. No doubt, he was not so much chasing a lead for Arthur as he was getting out of his way.

Merlin squinted back in annoyance, but the Prince had already spun about, marching towards the keep.

Merlin wiped his face with the red kerchief hanging from his neck, more in reflex than in need. That day's journey had already taken more out of him than anticipated. Why couldn't the royal dolt be his own pack mule for a change? No matter, Merlin would need to be at peak mental capacity to survive this with both his life and his destiny intact.

There was no time for exhaustion. He had a stranger to track down, and a hard-headed idiot to keep alive at that.

Descending down the tavern flight of stairs two at a time, like an overexcited baby goat, Merlin was onto the ground floor and up the stairs to the outside, before the tavernkeeper had even known that he was there.

It was a beautiful day to be out and about, even if it was at such a strangely insular community. Merlin had never struggled with amicability, and so he beamed and chatted his way through the streets of Gate-Town with such innocence that, before long, the locals did not even notice his presence. The thought did occur to Merlin that he could blend in here where Arthur could not, and it struck him as both funny and sad, just two different social spheres unable to cross.

As he passed farmers who brusquely nodded to each other, leading their cattle or swine, and young, dirty but plump and healthy children who dashed about the lane, Merlin found himself thinking of Ealdor for the first time in days.

Well, he thought of his mother in Ealdor every day. But Ealdor itself barely warranted a thought. As a child with a naturally shy but open temperament, Merlin had had difficulties living in Ealdor. He wanted nothing more than to be free to know and love people as much as they deserved. Hunith, however, had different plans. Merlin was kept close at hand, Merlin was not to attract attention, Merlin was NOT at any point to play with the other boys.

As much as Hunith wanted to keep a low profile, her, a striking young single mother in her 20s and her silent raven-haired boy with marble skin, drew a great deal of attention.

Most in Ealdor suspected that the mysterious stranger with the no doubt assumed name of Paelen, who had stayed in the village for almost a year, was the boy's father, but his sudden departure and the arrival of the king's men quickly led the townsfolk to drop speculating like a hornet's nest. No point in muddling in the affairs of the nobles.

So, his mysterious origin and his cautious mother prevented Merlin from forming many close attachments. But a free and easy countenance with a desire to be liked made for a naturally pleasing and approachable personality in the boy. Something that made gathering information and getting along quite easy.

Merlin leaned against a sign post next to a rather modest side door of a store front. Two young siblings sat on the stone steps weaving a rather large basket. The motion of their hands was entrancing as their arms and hands entwined to weave a fascinating design.

Such beauty and grace for something so simple.

Merlin wondered briefly that such beautiful arts could be found among the peasant class, and yet such skills are impossible to find in the city where there should be craftsmen a plenty.

Perhaps the physical crafts were like magic, a raw power passed down that dies in captivity.

Merlin realized with a start that the two children were staring up at him, the magic of their motions stopped.

 _Back to work Merlin._

"Greetings!" He said cheerily, turning on that instant grin.

The children instantly relaxed, able to tell instinctively as all children are, the worth of a person from their smile.

"How do you do?" The little boy said with a mature little nod.

 _Children usually are rather observant, especially if they they've been doing chores all day and have gotten bored. Ah, Will and I used to count the exact number of times that the butcher used to chase dogs out of his yard…or Widow H'agarth would fall asleep shucking peas on her step. Forget the old women, children are the real town gossip keepers._

A swell of nostalgia and homesickness threatened to wash over Merlin at the thought of Will. How he wished he could write home to confide in him about his new found "destiny", but Will was illiterate, and it was too dangerous to write Hunith home in clear enough language that she could tell Will.

Merlin shook off thoughts of Will, Ealdor and his mother. He had a job to do.

"You wouldn't happen to know where a tall man with long brownish hair, tied back in a plait lives, would you?" Merlin asked. "Rather stooped shoulders? Too much bending over a desk probably?" Merlin mimed leaning over a bit with a funny expression on his face throwing the kids into peals of laughter.

The little girl glanced at her brother before pointing around the corner.

"You're probably looking for the book keeper…" She started.

Her brother instantly filled in, finishing her sentence. "He lives close to Lord Thurmond's keep and keeps track of trade and merchants' arrivals…"

"He is new to town, but we don't know…" She cut in.

"Much about him." He finished.

"Thank you two so much." Merlin said genuinely. "And that is beautiful work. Well done."

The two beamed a grateful smile and bent back over their work, their hands weaving smoothly again. Merlin shot one last friendly glance at them before bounding away in the direction they had pointed.

Merlin found himself directed towards a hut with a swinging sign decorated with a heavy tome. In gold letters, it read, "Customs house".

Customs houses were usually found on ports and river quays, and served as the location that Merchants paid the dues for bringing in their imported goods. However, on highly trafficked roads, Customs houses inland signified a great deal of trade .

 _What could someone possibly be trading through here?_ Merlin wondered to himself.

The brown boots on Merlin's feet made soft smacking sounds as he walked up to the few steps to the front door. A quick summary glance around confirmed that no one in the town square was paying him any mind.

Merlin placed one hand on the heavy wood of the door, feeling comfort in its strong weight and pushed through.

"Hello?" He said cheerily, greeting the room with a cautious smile.

The relatively small exterior seemed to contain an even magically smaller interior, with leaning shelves of tomes and heavy bound books of various sizes all crowding about an inconsequential counter made smaller by the looming shelves at its sides. Sitting squarely on top of the counter a leather ledger lay flat, a quill sharpened and poised to strike in an inkwell beside it.

A gray cat meowed in greeting and rubbed against the counter as Merlin approached.

So too did the man Merlin had been searching for appear behind the counter.

Up close it was clear to merchant that this former servant of Camelot looked to be in his thirties. He had small pox scars on his face that were mostly hidden by a day's growth of a beard.

His clothes were also finer than one would expect for a former servant, what had appeared dingy and common place from up in the tavern window appeared to instead be patterned thick linen garments lined in bright silky fabric.

Two quick green eyes appraised Merlin just as he was being appraised.

"Can I help you?" He asked, in a voice that was surprisingly pleasing.

"Yes, um hello. I am sorry but, I saw you in the square and followed you here."

"Oh?" He asked, putting his forearms on the counter and leaning over amused. "How can I be of service?"

By now the gray cat had wound its way around Merlin's legs, meowing loudly.

Merlin bent down to pet the cat who got up on his back legs and pushed against his hand.

"He likes you." The stranger said in a 'making conversation' sort of way.

Merlin smiled up and said, "The reason I followed you, I recognized you from Camelot." The smile faded a bit from the man's face. "I just started working there myself, maybe just a week or two after I started when I stopped seeing you. I am just passing through myself, and thought I might talk with someone from home. Someone who knows Gate-Town like a local."

The man threw back his head and laughed lightly.

"Oh, I thought you might be a debt collector or something. Well, welcome. My name is Brunwald." He reached out an arm to shake Merlin's hand. "I'm sorry that I never noticed you in Camelot before I left."

"Oh it's no problem. We moved in different circles. I'm apprenticed for Gaius, the court physician."

"Gaius? Nice man that, though getting up in years. That's a good apprenticeship to have…?" Brunwald said.

"Merlin." He replied.

"Well Merlin, it's a pleasure to meet you, officially." Brunwald said. "What can I tell you about Gate-Town?"

"I don't know where to begin. It's all so very different from Camelot, isn't it? I mean, the locals and everything."

Brunwald shrugged non-committedly and squinted at Merlin in consideration.

"If you don't mind me saying, Merlin. You don't seem like a Camelot native yourself. Are you?"

"No, not at all. I'm from Ealdor."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Really, Merlin, you ought to consider moving to a place like Gate-Town, Camelot is no place for good people, it's full of vipers and snakes. The web of controversy that nobles spin about them is what gets regular people like you and me trapped in it. Best to stay away."

Brunwald flipped the ledger closed with an agile finger and spun about to place it on the shelf with the hundreds of others.

"Oh, I agree," Merlin said moving towards him. "But, what about Lord Thurmond, and his family. They're nobles, aren't they?"

Merlin congratulated himself on the smooth transition, Brunwald did not seem to be on his guard at all. Maybe Arthur was right that chasing this lead might lead to good information.

"Oh, Lord Thurmond and his family is just like us, only his house is larger. He keeps us safe, but leaves us alone. There's more freedom here."

Merlin leaned over the counter conspiratorially.

"You cannot tell me that with such a powerful family there isn't _some_ controversy." Merlin said.

Brunwald turned back to regard the boy with a mischevious glint.

"Well, I do not know if I would call it controversy. But, while you're here if you want some tantalizing gossip. They say Lord Thurmond has a mysterious new servant in the keep. A small man who goes about shielded in a robe and goes in and out of the hall by night. Some say he comes from the woods dealing in black magic. Others say he's Lord Thurmond's illegitmate son, born a monster and cast out from society."

Merlin's voice was barely a whisper as he asked, "And what do _you_ think it is?"

Brunwald lowered his voice as well and leaned in close. "I can't say, but I do know that he's been seen talking with Lord Thurmond's daughter, the Lady Etienne and her servant girl. If you want to catch a glimpse of him. Maybe you could wait up in the woods tonight and try to see him."

The tension which had thickened througout the room was suddenly melted by the leaping form of the gray cat jumping upon the counter between the two men's faces.

They both laughed and shook hands again, Merlin promised to pay his respects before he left and thanked Brunwald profusely.

As the young man jauntily exited the dark building, he didn't see the clouded look crossing Brunwald's face as he watched his visitor leave.

Merlin happily made his way to the keep, in search of both Arthur and the Lady Etienne's maid.

The large black doors of the keep groaned in protest as Merlin walked into what could only be described as the Great Hall.

At the far end, large chairs sat before an open fire. A peek of blond hair was visible over the back of one.

 _So he didn't get his hehead chopped off yet, that's good._

Merlin mused to himself with a smile as he made his way towards his destiny

 **So there you go guys, one more chapter to go before the Poisoned chalice! Woo! I hope you're enjoying this plot line as much as I enjoyed writing it. There remains more mystery and adventure in future chapters, but more importantly more Arthur and Merlin interaction. There is something important that I have to ask/tell you all.**

 **In the next chapter, the conclusion to The Mistaken Identity Sub-Plot, Merlin will call Arthur by his first name for the _first time._ I know, you're probably thinking he called him ARTHUR before that, but no. I checked. In the first two episodes, he refers to Arthur as "sire" pretty much exclusively. Only to others does he call him Arthur. So, you get to shape the next chapter. In what situation should Merlin blurt it out?**

 **A.When Arthur is in danger**

 **B.When relaxed and joking around**

 **C.As an almost thoughtless aside in a casual conversation?**

 **Let me know what you think.**

 **I have great Arthur reactions to each one written out, so I'm excited to see what you choose.**


	12. Mistaken Identity Finale

**Hi everyone, Beth here. I hope you enjoy the end to the Mistaken identity Plotline. The results of the how does Merlin say Arthur first happen was a tie. So, as you'll see, it's sort of a tie between the two scenarios.**

* * *

 **Gate-Town**

Arthur burst into his rooms in annoyance, the door slamming against the wall with such force that it sent a small clay pitcher tumbling off its ramshackle perch. Merlin moved toward the pitcher and then abruptly stopped, his fingers twitched upwards to cast a spell, before he forced them to his side and followed after Arthur.

The regent hurriedly ripped off his cape, ran his fingers through his hair and sat at the edge of his bed, in serious contemplation.

Arthur was rather surprised when Merlin did not make a sarcastic comment about his loud entrance but simply gathered up the pitcher fragments with a mumbled word about mentioning it to the tavern keep, and then sitting on the small bed opposite him.

Arthur examined his hands a moment, before glancing up at his servant through the blond fringe of his hair.

"Well," Merlin said with a lopsided smile, "If that's the father, can you imagine what your future mother in law will be like?"

"Merlin!" Arthur said in a blending of terseness and pain.

"It was a joke." Merlin tilted his head slightly and that strange look of distant looking but steely willed fire crossed his face, "We will prove you innocent, sire." Merlin said with a confidence that defied explanation.

 _How could life be so easy for him? To float through without the weight of the world on your shoulders? Without always contemplating your destiny and living in the fear that you might fail it?_

These thoughts passed through Arthur's mind in a moment and only came out as a choked, "How?"

"You're Arthur of Camelot, you'll think of something." Merlin started off sarcastic before switching to a softer more genuine tone, "The rest of this is... just an adventure."

Arthur pretended to ignore Merlin's comment, but it tossed around in his mind along with the other things, confusing, unexpected things, he had heard his servant say.

"Well, now that we're out of earshot of everyone, tell me how your meeting was with that man in the street."

"Hmm, well his name is Brunwald, he's the customs' keeper here in town."

 _Customs keeper? In a place so far from the sea?_

Another mystery to mull over.

"He moved here to find better work, says that he likes being away from those horrible royals in Camelot. The web of lies, is that how he put it? No, web of _scandal._..yeah, you should have heard what he had to see about royalty, tsk tsk."

"Merlin."

"What, you wanted to know what he said."

"Stick to the relevant facts Merlin, if I wanted the same sort of moaning complaints that commoners say everyday, I would just walk the streets of Camelot."

Though the sentence was said with a bit of severity, there was a streak of sadness which Arthur was unable to fully conceal. All the Royals knew that the commoners made them the punchline, just as royals made peasants their own. A sad game of mockery when in reality, both needed each other.

"Anything to save your pride, sire," Merlin said quickly, and before Arthur could even think of a comeback, had already moved on. "The most pertinent piece of information he gave me, was that Lord Thurmond has some mysterious new servant who appears from the woods at night and disappears into a side door of the keep. No one admits to knowing who he is, but he has been seen speak to the Lady Etienne and her servant, which is who I had come to speak to when I ran into you. I would have been able to too. If you hadn't dropped that stupid lie that I was mute!"

"If only you were" Arthur quipped, pulling his boots off wearily.

Merlin looked across the room to the dim little window and mused out loud. "I suppose I could still talk with Lady Etienne's maidservant, assuming Lord Thurmond and the Housekeeper have not told her I am mute, and I don't see why I would enter the conversat...hey what are you doing? We've barely started investigating."

Arthur, already laying back on the bed and slipping beneath the homespun covers, rolled onto his side to give his servant a critical look.

"You think you know strategy better than the future king?" He sighed quietly. "We're going to need some sleep because we'll be staying up tonight to try to catch a glimpse of this strange servant."

"No, I can't do that, sorry." Merlin said scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Do what?" Arthur asked shortly.

"Think about you as the future King, I wouldn't know what to talk about. Crop projections? Guard rotations? Court etiquette? It's like trying to think of conversation topics with Uther. No. But Royal Prat? That's doable. I can conjure up, or uh, think of a million things to say."

"I'd rather you didn't," Arthur said, too tired to banter with his servant.

"Didn't what? Think of you as the future king, or think of a million things to say." Merlin asked simply.

"I'll give you one guess."

Merlin pressed his lips together in false consternation.

"Mmmmm...the latter?"

"Way to go, Merlin." Arthur said sardonically.

With a amused smile, Merlin blithely crawled under covers himself, his dark hair laying contrasted against the taupe colored covers.

Arthur sighed and rolled onto his side, one knee bent, leg tucked comfortably at his side.

 _This tavern isn't so bad after all. The rooms have thick enough walls that I can barely hear the afternoon patrons below. Quiet and-_

"Do you think of yourself as the future king? I mean ever think about what that's going to be like? Because I-"

A pillow flew through the air and flopped down on the Servant's head, putting an end to the conversation.

* * *

The hours passed slowly as the two men tossed and turned restlessly, it was still daylight outside and the rest of the tavern was bustling with people.

Arthur stuffed his head deeper into the subterranean recesses of his pillow as he woke for the third time that hour to a beam of the setting sun slicing mercilessly across the room.

"Merlin..." He mumbled, half muted by the fabric.

There was a shift of fabric then a hoarse voice that sounded older than usual.

"Hmm? Wha..issit?

"Go close the shutters. I can't sleep with that s-shining right in my... face."

"If it's so important, you close it."

"It's your job, Merlin."

"Not when I'm off duty."

Arthur cracked an eye open to peer at Merlin, and found himself looking into the one cracked open eye of his servant.

"You aren't off duty, it's daytime."

"Unh, you're keeping me up tonight, so this technically counts as my evening off."

Arthur, half asleep and punch drunk with exhaustion, chuckled to himself and went back to sleep.

* * *

Finally, they rose as the sun sank low and silently moved about the room getting ready. Getting ready for what, Arthur did not know, so he prepared for anything. A sword, and scabbard, a pouch of money, a thick pair of gloves and his cloak tied on. Finally ready, Arthur tapped Merlin on the shoulder to signal that it was time. Coming downstairs into the quiet gloom of the main eating hall, a few travelers sat eating the cold remnants of supper and the tavern keep wiped down the bar. His eyebrows raised as he noticed their approach, Arthur's sword visible beneath his cloak.

"We're going out...pelt hunting, so we shouldn't be back for a few hours."

The tavern keep frowned. "I lock up soon. The door won't be unlocked until just before dawn."

Arthur considered arguing with him or offering compensation, but considering that the man had not questioned that they were pelt hunting without hunting weapons, he did not want to push his luck.

"Very well. We'll just stay out longer."Arthur agreed.

Together they rode their horses out of the city and down the road into the treeline. Once shaded by trees, Arthur led them in a wide circle through the treeline to the far end of the keep, where they walked their horses down a slight ravine that was carved by an old stream long since dried up. The ravine was carved through the field around the keep, thereby creating the perfect cover to watch and wati. They left the horses next to an outcropping of large rocks in the ravine, and then crawled up the side of the ravine so that the keep and the woods were both in view.

They lay on their bellies and propped themselves up with their elbows to look. One blonde head looking seriously, and one dark head looking even more intensely, save when the other looked at him, which is when he affected a look of mild absentmindedness.

They waited there a while, slapping at insects and quietly waiting until Merlin elbow-walked closer to Arthur, who could already tell his servant wanted to complain.

"I don't know about you, but my shirt sleeves are soaked through and my elbows are getting sore. Can't we come back tomorrow?"

Arthur had just opened his mouth to reply when he pushed Merlin's head down to the ground in alarm and dropped down, temple pressing into the dirt.

He had seen it there, for a second, and was momentarily concerned that they had been seen. Silhouetted, and almost unnoticeable against the black keep, was an even darker hooded figure; it slipped out of a side door and gazed out into the field. Its head was just turning in their direction when they dropped down and so Arthur held a finger to his lips firmly and waited. After a good ten seconds, Arthur and Merlin raised up just over the ridge to gaze outward, to see the stranger marching firmly across the field and towards the trees.

Arthur tapped Merlin's shoulder and dropped back into the ravine, he pointed to the horses and made a simple knotting gesture, and prayed that his servant would know that it meant to leave them tied up. Merlin looked between Arthur and the horses with wide blank eyes a moment. Clearly, it was not getting through to him.

Then a look of recognition behind his rich blue eyes as his mouth made a wide O.

Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded mockingly, before turning to crawl after the stranger. He made his way down the ravine and towards the treeline. Occasionally the prince risked a glance over the edge across the field where the ominous shape marched quickly toward the treeline.

 _I will never keep pace with him, crawling like this._

Arthur glanced behind him and saw Merlin still tieing up the horses' leads.

He had no choice, he couldn't wait for him.

Arthur moved toward the bottom of the ravine and stood up to his full height so that he could bolt toward the treeline.

He would not let this imposter escape.

Only too late, Merlin glanced up and saw Arthur swallowed up by the dark bulk of the forest.

He reached a hand out and instinctively called out, but the prince was gone.

Arthur plunged forward into the woods, the dark shape moving ever quicker through the treeline to his left. He ran as quietly as possible, his head constantly whipping left to check his progress.

Branches scratched at his face and ivy pulled at his boots, but he could not and would not be slowed now.

His heart pounded in his ears, and his head was just beginning to ring, when he realized that he had lost side of the stranger.

"No!" Arthur let fly a curse and slowed down, his feet thumping dully on the ground.

 _Where did he-_

There was a strange whistling in the air just before Arthur's vision exploded with stars. He stumbled forward off balance and broke his fall by rolling onto his arms.

The fall pressed the hilt of his sword up into his ribs, knocking all the wind out of him, and Arthur gasped in pain.

The black shape before him spun and danced, and then appeared to split into five seperate black shapes.

All to clearly despite his spinning vision, Arthur realized that there was indeed five seperate people who had emerged from the woods.

Arthur tried to draw his sword, but the closest stranger, the one who had attacked him, kicked him in the face. Arthur lay on his back, his arms akimbo and looked up at the spinning bower of branches over him.

He needed...he should...he felt like he might throw up he was so nauseated.

"Don't. We need him alive." A male voice warned

Then Arthur's vision faded to black.

* * *

Merlin was just finishing tieing up the first horse' lead when he glanced up to chart Arthur's progress. His heart dropped to his chest when he saw the red cloak rapidly disappearing into the treeline.

"Hey, Ar-sire!" Merlin hissed angrily.

Merlin gave up on the second lead and just wrapped it around the first horse's lead. Hopefully they would stick together...unlike a certain prince he knew.

Pumping his long legs as fast as he could, he soon found himself plunged into the cool shade of the forest. He whipped his head around first one way and then another.

Nothing.

Merlin decided to move straight ahead, in all likelihood Arthur would have tried to run paralell to the stranger's path on the left.

Moving as silently as possible, the young sorceror continued until he heard strange voices. He dropped down instantly in the brush and listened.

"We don't need him anymore."

Merlin saw four men and one woman huddled in a close conference before a torch held in the hand of the woman.

Three of the men looked like fierce hunter types with harsh scars and primitive clothing accented only with the cruel decoration of animal teeth jewelry and slung weapons. The woman was dressed richly in a black satin cloak, and her long hair was pulled back in an elegant knot. The fourth man was Brunwald, the tall lanky man appeared cruelly lit by the flickering glow of the torch. Brunwald paced nervously and wrung his hand anxiously.

Merlin felt the instant pain of betrayal. He thought he could trust him...

"We stick to the plan." Brunwald argued.

"No, listen, we make it look like Arthur tried to kill Etienne for convenience sake," The shortest hunter with the choppy hair growed. "No offense girl,"

"None taken" The young woman smirked, a hand revealing her rather swollen stomach.

The short man laughed and turned back to Brunwald. "Thurmond has no choice but to declare war on Uther...we get what we wanted all along."

"You said we still had another shipment of weapons on the way, Brun!" The thin hunter protested.

"What do you think, could we make do without it?" Etienne asked.

"Quiet, you lot, let me think." Brunwald growled.

"Why'd you tell him about the mysterious servant if you didn't want him chasing after you." The hunter with the thick crooked nose complained moodily.

"I thought Merlin would investigate, don't you see? Not him. He's a royal.I thought for sure he'd send out his servant to investigate."

The lady Etienne knelt down with the torch, the orange glow revealing the slumped form of Arthur at their feet.

"He's always been a misfit at court, Brun. I could have told you that. He never plays be the rules."

Merlin caught his breath and felt his magic flare up within him, angry, desperate, screaming at him to do something.

Merlin knew better than to answer those initial calls. He waited for the quieter, more solemn streams of magic that flowed behind it, more patient, more wise in its attack.

Just then Arthur stirred and moaned.

"Here's the sleeping beauty. Your call Brun."

"He either can't see us or we need to do this now."

There was a heavy pause as the companions exchanged a nervous glance.

Then suddenly Arthur's eyes opened and he locked onto the face of Brunwald.

"Y-you..." He groaned.

"There's your answer Brun, said the short shaggy one, drawing his knife.

Merlin shot up from the tree line.

"ARTHUR!" He shouted.

* * *

Consciousness flooded back into the prince all of a sudden as he saw the silver blade glinting. He managed to roll to his side batting the downward sweeping arm away.

Seemingly miraculously a sudden gust of wind blew the torch out, sending the others into a genuine panic.

Arthur struggled with his attacker and felt steel bite flesh in his arm, but he held like a manacle to him.

The prince was still only partly aware, but he heard muffled shouts and a woman's screams.

 _What was happening here!?_

Then, the area was quiet except for the muffled moans of a few people. Arthur finally managed to get on top of the struggling man and slam down with his elbow, knocking him out.

With a gasp, he pushed himself off and lay flat on his back.

His head hurt like crazy...and hadn't he heard, Merlin? It couldn't have been. He had heard his name. No one but his father and Morgana used his name...why couldn't he breathe? Oh right, his sword hilt in his ribs.

Arthur pulled himself backwards to prop himself up against a tree and found that he could breathe again. That's when his vision cleared and he began to realize that it was actually a lighter shade of gray than before. It must be before dawn.

Suddenly a dark shape loomed at him.

Arthur tried to pull his sword out but it was pinned beneath him.

There was a cool hand on his head.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked.

"Merlin! What happened?"

Arthur then recognized the hunter who had attacked him.

"That man, Merlin, I saw these men in the tavern earlier."

"I know," Merlin sighed, "I'm going to tie these men up, but first, are you bleeding?"

Arthur grimaced and grabbed his forearm.

"Not fatally," he responded. "I'll help you."

Together the two wandered about and using the men's belts tied their wrists together as best they could. Nearby they found four horses, the woman and her horse were long gone.

"The Lady Etienne was here, but when I attacked the men, I did not want to hurt a pregnant woman."

Arthur did a double take and frowned at his servant.

"You expect me to believe you took down four armed men."

"Well, I did have the element of surprise, and I...I think they might have been drunk or something. Anyway, they didn't put up much of a fight."

Arthur found that rather unlikely but his head hurt too much to focus.

As they tied the men onto the saddles, Arthur took a long glance at his servant.

The scrawny scrappy kid did not seem to be any worse for wear. Still, he could be hiding it.

"Are you alright?" Arthur inquired.

"Yeah, fine, never better." Merlin said with a beaming grin.

* * *

Together the two led the prisoners back to the Thurmond Hall. There were guards milling about like angry ants and someone screaming from inside the great hall. Apparently Lady Etienne had returned straight home and was already trying to spin a story to her father in explanation. Arthur marched into the keep's courtyard with all four men, while Merlin broke into Brunwald's shop. Those mysterious ledgers that lined the shelves told of a secret weapons smuggling ring, a band of hired mercenaries, all orchestrated by the Lady Etienne and her lover Brunwald.

With the men in custody and the ledgers as evidence, the Lady Etienne switched from indignant accusations to frantic excuses.

"Father, please. You must understand! Uther has sorely abused you, our whole family. You are a better king, a better ruler than he ever would be! We are powerful enough to defeat him, to ally ourselves with another kingdom!"

The swarthy face darkened beneath his black mane of hair as he listened to her.

"Silence, daughter! You bring shame upon my household with your behavior."

"But I-"

"Enough! You and your lover must be offered up in the courts of Camelot for trial, and I can only pray that Uther takes more pity on you than I would take on someone who tried to do the same to you."

Then a wave of grief seemed to hit the lord and tears welled up as he yelled.

"Is it not enough that I must lose your brother but that you would make me lose you too! You selfish, selfish girl!"

Arthur and Merlin, stood at the edge of the hall as Etienne was dragged away screaming to her chambers.

Lord Thurmond leaned onto one of the great oak chairs for support, his face in his hands.

Arthur waited a moment then approached the father.

"Sir, as a representative of the house Pendragon, I will press no charges against your daughter. Whatever way you see fit to punish her or the other people of Gate-town will I'm sure be sufficient. I do however, demand that all weapons smuggled for the purposes of outfitting an army be sent to Camelot, where they will be melted down or sold. As to the bands of mercenaries hiding out in your woods, I suspect that they offered their services on the behest of an rival king, who sought your forces to attack and weaken camelot. I ask that you investigate this involvement and keep my father and I abreast of any new developments. But no harm will come to you or your household."

The father was so grateful to Arthur that he promised to acquise to all of his demands, and sent Arthur away with a long letter to Uther apologizing to the king that his daughter had lied about her child's father who was a gifted clerk from Camelot who mastered copying the hand of Arthur. The letter also mentioned about a discovered plot to prepare an army to attack Camelot, with no mention of his daughter's involvement, but a fervent praise of Arthur's discovering the plot while he was in Gate-Town. The thick parchment was tucked into Arthur's saddlebags with no small degree of satisfaction, and even Arthur did not try hiding the smile on his face as they rode out of town the next day.

* * *

Later that evening Arthur and Merlin sat on their unfurled bed rolls eating their dinner in silence.

Arthur stopped eating and turned to muse the linen bandage wrapped around his arm.

So much had happened to them in this journey, but the most important part, the fight in the woods, was the part that Arthur struggled the most to remember.

He know he was stabbed, that Merlin claimed he had taken the other three men by surprise and knocked them out.

But something niggled at the back of Arthur's mind and he couldn't shake it.

Merlin...had called him Arthur.

Maybe it was just him being foggy headed from the injury, but he was almost certain of it.

His servant had called him by his name.

Merlin caught sight of Arthur's picking at the bandage.

"Hey, don't mess with that. It won't heal."

"It itches." Arthur complained. Trying to shake off his thoughts.

Merlin fumbled in the bag at his side and pulled out a bunch of herbs.

"Here," He said, coming over.

The servant sat in front of the prince, and gently pulled the linen away from the wound. Arthur looked at anything but the boy in front of him, determined not to show pain.

Carefully a few leaves were tucked against the wound, at first they prickled but then a soothing calm washed over the inury. Arthur looked down in surprise and laughed.

"Ha! It works already."

"I learned a few tricks from Gaius, sire" Merlin said with a shrug, rolling up the remaining bunch on his knee.

 _So, back to Sire again. I guess I must have been imagining it._

Arthur bit his lip in hesitation then spoke, looking at the ground.

"There's so much I don't remember about the fight, I was a bit dizzy. So I'm trying to be sure what I remember."

Merlin tensed up, Arthur could see how instantly uncomfortable the topic made him. Maybe he had been wrong after all.

"You said my name..." Arthur stopped there, he couldn't bring himself to say" _That's okay, Merlin, feel free to use my name, I don't mind. It's actually nice spending time with someone who can actually use my name."_

Merlin narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at Arthur in surprise, no doubt trying to gauge his response, Arthur thought.

"Yes, I suppose I did. I was trying to warn you..." Merlin mused.

Arthur nodded silently and finished packing away his supplies before bed. Merlin too returned to his bedroll and finished packing his supplies for sleep.

Just as the prince closed his eyes, the quiet shake of the leaves lulling him to sleep, he heard Merlin call out.

"Good night, Arthur."

The prince smiled to himself.

"Good night, Merlin."

* * *

 **Did you enjoy it? I hope so! Like I've said. Please feel free to message me with any thoughts or scenarios you'd like to see in this fic. In a way, it's rather freeing, enabling me almost to include a bunch of one shots in between the episode chapters. In a few days, the Poisoned Chalice chapter 1 comes out so keep an eye out for that.**

 **Farewell!**


	13. The Poisoned Chalice Part 1

**Hello everybody, I'm actually writing this chapter before chapter 7. I just couldn't wait to get my adaptation of the poisoned chalice out for you guys.**

 **I know that I, and a lot of people view the Poisoned Chalice as the official beginning of Merlin and Arthur's real friendship. Yes, they both have alot of growing to do, and they don't refer to each other as friend for a while due to the class distinction, but it was this episode that solidified it into an unspoken bond. In my mind, the poisoned chalice opened questions in Arthur's mind that were answered in the Labyrinth of Gedref. Here he begins to fully wonder if he could have found a friend in Merlin, and he confirms that to himself when he tries to die to save his friend's life.**

 **Anyhow, please enjoy!**

 **Beth**

Bayard of Mercia, known as the scourge of the Western reaches, the terror of the free Commot folk, would be coming today. Finally, decades of skirmishes, and bitter conflict would come to a fitting end. When Arthur took his place as King of Camelot, perhaps the new alliance will have bloomed into a great friendship, a trust stretching across nations and barriers. Perhaps he would leave Camelot's borders in safety and travel to Mercia. He would see all the far off places his father had never dared to send him, perhaps...

"When's the last time these were cleaned?" Merlin asked in disgust.

Arthur shook himself from his ruminations and returned to the present moment. He was standing in his quarters behind Merlin who was looking in disgust at the pile of ceremonial clothing on the table.

"Mmm, last year sometime?" Arthur said disinterestedly, "Before the feast of Beltane."

 _At the feast of Beltane...that was a time. Bored out of my mind. No one interesting to talk to._ Arthur thought all of this to himself sardonically.

"Did it end in a food fight?" Merlin asked in disbelief, nose crinkled slightly.

He then turned to put the red jacket on Arthur to make sure it fit well, and needed no repairs.

Arthur offered an arm while he tried to think back on that particular memory. Had there been a food fight?

 _No point. These feasts all run together at some point._ Arthur decided to go with a vague answer.

"Don't all feasts?" He said blandly. In truth, one could say that all feasts ended in food fights. Inevitably there would be arguments, too much wine would be consumed and a few people would end up doused in food or wine.

"I wouldn't know, the airs and graces of the court are a mystery to me." Merlin said over his shoulder as he slipped the second sleeve onto Arthur.

Arthur pondered that statement a moment. _Having no experience of court, what must that be like?_ His entire life had been grounded in the idea that his identity was formed and preserved in the court. Outside of that, what was he? He was only King if he had control of his court, he only had control of his court if people respected and feared him. People only respected and feared him if he did his duty with an iron will. A king, or Crown Prince for that matter, MUST maintain a mystery about them. There is no personality; indeed, there is no PERSON behind the king, there is just the man who dwells supreme, in court, and on the battle field.

This night was going to be JUST the same as Beltane...but wait, not quite. The realization hit Arthur like a jousting lance.

 _Merlin will be there. An idiot, sure. But someone I can talk to at least. Someone with a bit of personality to them._

Arthur tamped down his interest.

"Not tonight you won't be. _"_ He said, feigning to examine his jacket's butttons.

"I'm...going to be at the banquet?" Merlin asked, clearly grinning, judging by the warm sound of his voice

Arthur had only known Merlin a few weeks but he had already learned the different sounds his voice made, depending on his facial expressions and mood.

 _"_ Not quite. You'll be there to make sure my cup doesn't run dry. If I have to sit through Bayard's boring speeches, I don't see why you should get out of it." _Also so I'm not absolutely bored out of my mind, I'll at least have you to annoy. "_ Be sure to polish the buttons."

Shaking the jacket off, the prince threw it at his manservant, who just raised an eyebrow in annoyance, before beginning to fold it. Arthur stepped behind his changing screen to find his other belt, when a box sitting on top of a small table caught his eye. Large garish feathers peaked out from the top. Arthur stepped forward in confusion and brushed a finger over the rim. Oh, he knew what that was.

Arthur grinned wickedly behind the screen at the thought of tormenting his servant.

"Do you want to see what you'll be wearing tonight?" He asked innocently.

"Won't this do?" Merlin called out in confusion.

Arthur stepped partially around the screen to look at him. His regular shabby clothes, ill fitting, frayed at the edges, they worked for a servant, and in fact he wore them with a confidence that was admirable, but they wouldn't do in front of Bayard's men. He shook his head slightly.

"No. Tonight you'll be wearing the OFFICIAL ceremonial robes of the servants of Camelot."

The curious and mildly excited light in Merlin's eyes died as Arthur swung forward the garish red and green attire complete with floppy feathery hat.

Arthur couldn't help but grin in amusement.

 _Maybe this evening wouldn't be a complete loss._

 _My word, will these speeches ever end? It's only been two hours!_

It was finally time to sign the treaty and Arthur stood behind his father watching as Uther and Bayard prepared to put their marks down to the parchment.

A truly historic motion that would spell the end of much suffering. Arthur felt a swell of pride for his father in negotiating this treaty, and once again felt that admiration for the truly distant way in which he ruled as king. But did it have to be with such fanfare?

Arthur remembered how it felt as a child, standing in his father's shadow at these events. Now that he was older he was more aware of the significance...but just as bored. The young prince cast his eyes about the assembly, calmly scanning the room as if taking in the environment. He was really looking for one person. His manservant was not hard to spot, one of the few servants wearing the official robes and the only one who was wearing the hat. The tall plumes stood up like a war banner.

Merlin caught Arthur's gaze and pinched his lips, shaking his head in annoyance.

Arthur felt a huge smile spread over his face and he flashed his eyebrows at Merlin as if to say.

 _"Aren't you happy to be at court now?"_

Merlin's face gave him all the answer he needed.

 _"NO. I am not, and I want to seriously hurt you right now for making me look like this in front of people."_

Arthur supposed he was happy to have pranked him and took a small pleasure in making his goofy servant uncomfortable. There was more to it, something Arthur couldn't quite reason out, some other reason that he felt particularly happy to see Merlin there.

 _It couldn't be that I actually enjoy his company...that possibly I see him as a frie-_

 _Not important,_ Arthur reasoned and turned to applaud with the crowd as the treaty was signed.

 **A few hours later**

Has _Bayard stopped talking to take a single breath? I even wonder if he's blinked this whole time. Perhaps he's bewitched, or maybe he's so bored himself he's forcing his eyes open. I couldn't blame him. Where's Merlin? I wish I could get the collar of this stupid jacket away from my neck. Maybe Merlin didn't wash it properly. I'll be sure to tell him about this...where is he? Slipped off with that lovely servant girl maybe. Oh wait, Bayard's looking at me, I need to re-focus._

"And may the differences from our past remain there. To your health, Uther." Bayard said, raising his goblet in salute.

 _Finally._

Arthur bent his lips low to the goblet to drink

"Arthur" Bayard's booming voice called out.

 _Of course, he simply had to add to the toast._

Arthur drew his lips back from the pewter goblet's cold edge. He stretched a wane smile over his face and acknowledged Bayard's toast.

"Lady Morgana" The visiting king added with a slight bow to the radiant looking woman to Uther's left.

Although Arthur viewed her as his rather annoying sister, or maybe was it his cousin? He couldn't deny that she was stunning tonight. Still, Arthur had been growing concerned about the changing nature of their friendship. A few months ago, Morgana's nightmares had worsened, and with it her mood. She was growing more and more impatient with Uther, which Arthur could understand but not condone. He'd made many efforts to start conversations with her, but after so many rebuttals he'd resigned himself to withdrawing somewhat, until she worked through whatever was troubling her.

Still holding the goblet aloft, Arthur leaned back slightly to look at Morgana behind Uther's back. With sibling instincts, Morgana also glanced over at Arthur. She held the goblet in front of her face and slightly rolled her eyes at Arthur. Arthur just flashed his eyebrows in amusement and looked forward again. _Maybe whatever foul mood she's been in recently will pass, and we can get back to the way we were._ Arthur thought.

"The people of Camelot." Bayard said as he saluted the entire company.

Arthur and Morgana tilted their goblets to drink once again.

"And to fallen warriors on both sides."Uther intoned

The purple liquid splashed up against Arthur's lip once again.

 _Seriously? Just let us drink and get this evening over with._

Bayard acknowledged Uther's addition to the toast and began to drink, as did Uther, Arthur could see. So with a final sigh of relief he tilted the goblet back.

"STOP!" A loud voice echoed firmly off of the walls, freezing Arthur in his place. He turned over his right shoulder to look.

 _That sounded like...Merlin._

 _"_ It's poisoned don't drink it." The young scrawny servant rushed over to Arthur with the ferocity of a panther and swiped the drink out of his hand. As Merlin snatched it from him, Arthur saw the horrifying glare in his eyes, the hatred he held...for the cup in hands. Arthur felt the hair stand up on his arms and didn't know why.

"What?" Uther practically hissed the words out.

It was understandable, this treaty had taken five years to negotiate and to have it suddenly interrupted by the ridiculous form of his son's manservant was intolerable. Arthur felt a strong desire to throttle Merlin himself if only to get him out of the center of the room with all the swords pointed at him.

" _Mer_ lin, what ARE you doing?" Arthur demanded in annoyance.

Merlin held the drink up accusingly, acknowledged Uther with his eyes and then spun to glare at Bayard.

"Bayard laced Arthur's goblet...with poison."

Instantaneously the atmosphere in the room shifted from tense to hostile. Meanwhile hearing his own name again made Arthur instinctively flinch.

"This," Bayard growled furiously, his hand already drawing his sword. "Is an outrage!"

As one, the red cloaks of Camelot's knights flipped back like an ominous red wave as they drew their swords.

Uther drew himself up, taking control of the situation.

"Order your men to put down their swords. You're outnumbered." Uther said dangerously.

More knights rushed in behind them. Arthur spun about and looked at the growing number of knights. There standing in the middle, exposed and in danger like the complete buffoon he was, was his manservant still standing with that strange fearlessness in his eyes.

 _Perhaps he's drunk! Yes, that would explain the glazed look. I've got to get him out of this!_

"I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged." Bayard yelled.

Arthur had to admit, Bayard was playing the self-righteous and innocent man quite well if he WAS guilty of poisoning. Maybe he could sneak his servant out of here before he attracted the rage of his father.

"On what grounds do you base these accusations?" Uther asked, leaning over the desk ominously.

 _T_ oo _late._

 _"_ I'll handle this." The blonde said firmly. He rushed forward, quickly skirting the edge of the table and bounding toward his servant.

"Merlin, YOU IDIOT _," Arthur seethed._

 _You idiot for putting yourself in harm's way, AGAIN, for embarrassing me in front of my father, AGAIN._

"have we been at the Sloe gin again?"

Arthur hoped that if he made it sound like Merlin had a drinking problem, Bayard and his father would laugh off the situation and he'd get a night in the stocks, but Arthur had a sinking feeling that the tensions were too far stretched to simply laugh them off. Arthur grabbed Merlin by the scruff of his shirt like a cat grabs onto one of its kits and hauled him toward the head table.

Uther slammed his fist on the table, halting their progress.

"Unless you want to be strung up, you will tell me why you think it's poisoned now." Uther said.

 _Merlin, keep your mouth shut, I'll think of something._

 _"_ He was SEEN lacing it." Merlin said confidently.

 _Merlin!_

 _"_ By whom?" Uther demanded.

Arthur bit his lip in worry and looked at Merlin.

That idiot clearly believed whatever thing he was about to say. Even if it was going to get him killed!

"I can't say." Merlin replied hoarsely.

Arthur could see Gaius groan and cover his face with his hand.

"I will NOT listen to this anymore." Bayard said.

Merlin spun about and glared at the king, Arthur just felt paralyzed in shock at what was happening. Merlin was sticking to his statement despite the clear threat to his life. Didn't he realize he could be killed! Didn't he realize either Uther or Bayard would have grounds to kill him if he was wrong?

Arthur's whirling thoughts were interrupted by Uther who came from behind the table.

"Pass me the goblet."

Arthur handed it over with relief and watched his father's retreating form. Good, maybe Merlin would escape this unscathed.

"If you're telling the truth." Uther said, disdain dripping from his words.

"I am." Bayard interrupted.

"Then you have nothing to fear do you?" Uther finished.

 _Good. This is good. If Merlin is actually right then this will prove it. But if he's not..._ Arthur shook off that thought. He'd find a way to get his manservant out of this, he was sure. He always did.

Bayard scoffed and sheathed his sword. Without flinching, the powerful king of Mercia reached forward a hand for the goblet impatiently.

Arthur's heart sunk. If he was so unafraid then it wasn't poisoned.

Uther drew back his hand suddenly, his head tilted like a bird of prey waiting to strike.

"No. If this does prove to be poisoned, I want the pleasure of killing you myself." He said.

Bayard snorted indignantly, clearly unimpressed with the proceedings.

 _What now? If he gives it to Gaius, maybe he could extract a poi-_

"He'll drink it."

Arthur looked down the length of Uther's arm to the intended victim. Merlin.

"But if it is poisoned, he'll die!" Arthur blurted out, surprising even himself with the alarm in his voice.

"Then we'll know he was telling the truth." Uther hissed back.

Bayard nodded approvingly, clearly convinced it wasn't poisoned.

"And what if he lives?" The visiting regent asked.

"Then you have my apologies and can do with him what you wish."

Arthur felt a horrible weight settle into his stomach. Merlin could not die for trying to save his life. Right or wrong, the idiot had good intentions. In fact, the imbecile was nothing BUT good intentions.

 _Why is no one saying anything? Why isn't anyone defending him!? Why am I not defending him?_

Arthur felt a vey strong desire to smack the goblet out of Merlin's pale, thin hands. That idiot wasn't smart enough to protect himself.

Gaius spoke up in a firm voice, one of the few times Arthur had heard him question the king in public.

"Uther, please, he's just a boy. He doesn't know what he's saying!"

Arthur felt a horrible fear, a memory of what happened to Eoin, what had happened to the servants he had gotten close to as a child.

Now someone else was going to be punished for associating with him. He couldn't take it!

Uther turned to look back at Gaius.

"Then you should have schooled him better."

Arthur knew that look in his father's eye, it was already done. Merlin was as good as dead.

Merlin was now bringing the drink closer to his lips.

Arthur stepped forward to Merlin's side and reached for the goblet firmly.

Arthur rambled quickly, his thoughts making his words seem scattered and desperate. "Merlin" _LISTEN UP YOU IDIOT. "_ Apologize!" _I wouldn't be able to take it if you got hurt on my behalf._ "This is a mistake." _Because I just realized..._ "I'll drink it!" _That you've become a... friend._

Merlin pulled the cup away from Arthur's outstretched hand.

"No, no, no, no, no it's, it's alright." He said gently.

Arthur searched Merlins face in disbelief . _He would probably be alright...I mean Bayard acted innocent...he probably wouldn't be poisoned right? Right?_

Merlin raised the drink in acknowledgment of Bayard like a fencer about to duel.

 _IDIOT. Damned fool idiot for making me feel worried about him. For putting himself in this situation when I finally have someone I can trust. How dare he jeopardize that?_

With all the ceremony of a performer, Merlin downed the entire goblet. No one in the room moved or breathed, their eyes were glued to the raven haired waif standing before them.

And then like that, it was over. The servant licked his lips once, paused a moment to wait, then looked crestfallen.

"It's fine."

The whole room breathed again, and Arthur felt a huge relief as his nerves relaxed.

 _Crestfallen? You idiot, you could have died! Now I'm going to have to negotiate to save your life with Bayard._

 _"_ He's all yours." Uther said with dissapointment returning to his seat.

Arthur turned to walk to his seat as well, already concocting plans on paying off Bayard's guards to buy Merlin back from their custody, when a strange sound froze his feet to the floor.

Someone was choking, and Arthur almost didn't want to spin around to look, but he did.

 _Please don't be..._

Merlin stood, one hand tucked under his chin, with his face painfully contorted.

He coughed a few times, his hand digging more painfully under his chin.

 _Oh no, I've lost..he was...my friend._

The thought had barely begun to form in his mind when Merlin dropped to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut, his thin body hitting the floor with an awful smack.

There was a short pause as everyone processed what had happened.

"It's poisoned! Guards seize him!" Uther shouted.

Everywhere the rasping of swords filled the air, Arthur ignored it all and rushed to Merlin's side. His knees sliding on the polished flagstones he bent over Merlin, checking him for a pulse.

" Merlin" Arthur breathed quietly, and felt his neck, the skin was already cold and clammy but there was a weak pulse.

 _Why isn't anyone else helping?_

Almost as if in response to his thought, Gwenivere, Morgana's maid, and Gaius came rushing over.

Gaius placed a hand on Merlin's head, his own face creased with worry.

Arthur studied Gaius' face with pure fear.

"Well?" Arthur asked impatiently.

The rows and rows of sharp swords currently above their heads didn't seem to make Gwenivere or Gaius pause, and Arthur felt a great surge in gratitude towards them both for it.

"Merlin. Can you hear me? We have to get him back to my chambers." Without waiting for Gaius to finish, Arthur knelt to the ground, grabbed one of his long scrawny arms and hoisted his servant onto his back.

"Bring the goblet. I need to identify the poison. " Gaius instructed to Gwen. Arthur was already rushing out of the great hall, the shouts and arguments of his father and Bayard already a distant buzz.

Arthur's friend grunted in pain as they walked up the flight up stairs, Merlin's ribs bouncing against Arthur's shoulder. Arthur winced and tried to walk up the granite steps more carefully.

He finally had a friend, not that he could ever admit it to Merlin, but whatever it took, he was not going to lose that now.

 **Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this! I rewatched the poisoning scene 5 different times to re-analyze what everyone was doing and their body language. I hope that you guys think it came through alright. I think the most telling line of that scene in when Arthur says, "Merlin...apologize...this is a mistake...I'll drink it." The reason I inserted small lines of internal dialogue there is that Arthur is doing something quite interesting, he's rambling and each comma represents a rather sudden change of emotion. For example,** Merlin! **This is anger,** Apologize, **this is frustration** This is a mistake **This is pleading** I'll drink it! **This is resolve. I decided it looked like Arthur was coming to a realization in this moment and I hope I wrote it well. Please leave a review if you enjoyed it. It really brightens my day!**

 **Beth**


	14. TPC Pt2 A few conversations later

**Hello there lovelies! Well, summer school has started back up for me, so I thought before I get ready for midterm I would post this next chapter for you. I am glad that you enjoyed the Poisoned Chalice Part 1, here's to hoping you enjoyed the continued novelization.**

Arthur ascended the stairs as rapidly as he could, one arm gripped like a vise on Merlin's thin one and the other firmly balanced against Merlin's legs. He struggled to keep his center of gravity balanced, thereby preventing him from tilting both of them down the winding route to Gaius' chambers. Gaius led the way, his breathing was labored, fist pressed tight to his sternum, but his face was stony.

Arthur had seen that stony look before, on soldiers whose comrades were dying. A desperate attempt to prevent the spread of panic among others that would destroy any small chance the dying man had. Gwenivere, Morgana's lithe maid, darted under his arms in a flash of mustard yellow to open the doors for them both. She held the goblet like a baby, pressed against her chest firmly, her lips an even firmer line. They all looked like Soldiers marching soldier to soldier in battle.

They were all afraid of losing their friend today. It gave Arthur no small amount of comfort, though it was only a passing thought as they hurried, that his servant had people to worry about him, to care for him. Indeed, up until this moment, Arthur had forgotten that Merlin was close with Morgana's maidservant. It fit though, for she was kind and gentle, much as he was. Not that he knew really knew her, but he knew enough to know that Merlin would take to her. Arthur kicked himself interally every step up as he realized that he didn't know what Merlin did for fun with his friends, whether he and Gwen had any other circle of friends that they regularly met up with. He really didn't know his servant much at all.

As they finally arrived at the wooden portal to the physicians' quarters. Gwen leaped forward and pushed the latch-up, stepping to the side to allow the singularly focused Gaius to barrel through. Arthur exchanged a grimace with Gwen as he passed through, the closest to a smile and a thank you as he could manage.

Already the robed old man was giving orders.

"Lay him on the bed quickly; he's struggling to breathe." _Good. Orders. I am a soldier. I know how to follow orders._ Arthur navigated the narrow space between the cluttered tables and work stations to the narrow trundle bed in the center of the floor. When sliding Merlin off his shoulder, his head rolled, putting Merlin's neck against the side of Arthur's own.

The skin was so feverishly hot that it felt like it would burn Arthur's flesh. A

"Gwen, fetch me some water and a towel. "He continued, bustling over to the trundle bed as Arthur lowered the boy.

Arthur peeled the neck off of his own with a hand around the back of Merlin's head as he lay him down. He was growing deeply disturbed by the whistling sounds Merlin's throat was making. Like someone blowing through a reed pipe without covering any of the holes.

"Is he going to be alright?" Arthur questioned.

He inwardly kicked himself for asking such an obvious question. If he was or was not going to be alright was soon to be determined by Gaius. He just...could not help to ask out loud. _For what? Re-assurance?_ Arthur risked a glance at Gaius' long face, but the worry seeping through the stony facade was too dreadful to see. So he looked back at Merlin's face. It was lined with pain and glistening with sweat, the boy was clearly trying to fight off the poison.

"He's burning up..." was all Gaius replied. A sort of mumbled observation to fill his lack of an answer.

Gwen returned already with the desired articles and Arthur felt that the heavens must have given her wings to send her there and back again so quickly.

Arthur once again silently blessed her for coming to help them. She handed over the drenched cloth to Gaius, her eyes desperately searching that of the old man's for an answer.

"You can cure him, can't you Gaius?" She beseeched.

Pragmatic in tone, but not in gesture, Gaius lovingly adjusted the black hair around the wet cloth and responded. "I won't know until I can identify the poison." The physician straightened up. " Pass me the goblet, Gwen."

Arthur's knees hurt kneeling on the floor beside Merlin, but mostly he hated staring dumbly at suffering.

 _Please. Someone give me some information. I need orders. What can I do?_

"Ah." Said Gaius, raising the cup up and squinting as the old do to read small printing. " There's something stuck on the inside."

 _Information. Something I can do. Something new._

His pulse quickened at the thought of impending hope or doom. Arthur leaped to his feet and approached Gaius.

"What is it?" He asked.

"It looks like a flower petal of some kind," Gaius responded.

A pair of tweezers was lifted from the table and inserted into the goblet to hold the offending petal in question aloft. Its diaphanous nature filtered the light, catching the motes of color in pale shades of pink and green.

Gwen, now at Merlin's side, spoke across the room.

"His brow's on fire," Gwen said worriedly.

Arthur's gaze snapped over to gaze in concern at the scene before him. An unspoken question lay in her words. _Gaius, please, can you stop him from dying?_

"Keep him cool; it'll help control his fever." Gaius placated, almost calmly.

Arthur could see the determination harden in Gwen's dark eyes. She was a soldier too it seemed, and she had her orders to follow.

Arthur turned to examine the goblet, which was now free of the poisoned petal. Its sides were inscribed with typical ceremonial script. It was, in every sense, a boring feasting cup. How long had Arthur held that vessel, warming the wine with his hands as he waited for Bayard and his father to finish toasting? How had he not seen the petal before? If he had only glanced down into the goblet to look, would Merlin still be lying there?

A horrible feeling that Arthur registered as guilt struck him as he recalled how often he had tilted back the goblet to drink. If Merlin hadn't arrived when he did. He would be lying on that bed right now instead. His father would be pacing anxiously, Morgana would be at his bedside, holding his hand as Gwen did now. His family. Just as Merlin's family was currently crowded about him.

Gaius made a little 'Ah' of satisfaction, which caused Arthur to realize the man had now opened up an ancient tome and was examining it carefully. Arthur sidled over to peer over the old man's shoulder.

"The petal comes from the Mortaeus flower. It says here that someone poisoned by the Mortaeus can only be saved by a potion made from the leaf of the very same flower."

 _Of course…_

 _"_ It can only be found in the caves deep beneath the Forest of Balor. The flower grows on the roots of the Mortaeus tree." Gaius' gnarled finger trailed over the illustrations in the book, which caught Arthur's eye. Next to a drawing of the Mortaeus tree curled a fiercesome looking salamander type creature.

 _The forests of Balor are not far, just unfriendly. I could be there by nightfall if I started now…_

"That's not particularly friendly," Arthur stated, pretty sure he knew what was going to follow.

Gaius gave a groan of foreboding as he examined the drawing. "A Cockatrice. It guards the forest." Here Gaius seemed to realize why Arthur was interested and his tone hardened. Each word punctuated to get its meaning across. "Its venom is potent. A single drop would mean certain death. Few who have crossed the Mountains of Isgaard in search of the Mortaeus flower have made it back alive."

Arthur had to admit that his stomach sank at Gaius' words. His thoughts were going too fast. He needed to think. He needed to take a moment to think...

Being in this room brought back very painful memories, and only contributed to the feeling of being boxed in. Memories of a scared little boy bursting through that very door because his one friend, his mentor, his tutor, had died. He remembered how, after losing his tutor he had an almost ghost limb feeling. Like a key part of himself were missing. He would turn about to ask his tutor a question, and pause, the words would sour and die on his lips. He never said the name, he always caught himself, but it still stung.

He did not want Merlin's name to become the same thing. A cursed word too painful to speak. Yes, he was only a servant, they could never be real friends, but in a few weeks, Arthur had to admit that he had allowed himself to get attached. It was a weakness…he knew it, and yet too late to stop.

He couldn't do that again. Not only for himself, but for Gaius, an old man who took to the boy like a son, and Gwen a kind person who had found a kindred spirit in the fond fool.

If the heavens gave Arthur strength, wealth and power, what was it for except to use it for good causes like this?

"Sounds like fun." He affirmed outloud, his shoulders squared for a fight as he marched toward the door.

The pleading voice of Gaius halted his motion. Gwen remained silent, but her watchful vigil buy Merlin's side spoke volumes.

"Arthur, it's too dangerous," Gaius insisted almost angrily now.

Arthur stepped close to the physician, trying desperately to shake off the memory of when he had been wrapped into a warm embrace by the old man, the heavy linen robes smelling of cloves and ginger.

"If I don't get the antidote, what happens to Merlin?" The question was more of a challenge, asking for any reason to prevent him from going.

A look of conflicting obligations flitted over the physician's face like a flock of birds. He clearly wished to protect the prince, but he loved Merlin. Like that, the resistance crumbled in his face.

"The Mortaeus induces a slow and painful death. He may hold out for four, maybe five days, but not for much longer. Eventually, he will die." Gaius said, his sad eyes locked onto Arthur.

It was settled. Arthur turned without a backward glance, and marched out of the room, very eager to escape the memories of his childish sobs which haunted him down the corridor.

* * *

He could not believe what he was hearing. How could his father disagree with him? These were the thoughts cycling dumbly through his mind, but he could not get past them. He had found his father pacing angrily in the great hall, the tables all abandoned food still steaming on plates, but chairs all akimbo showing that their occupants had left in quite a rush. Bayard and his men were gone, no doubt arrested in the dungeons below.

"Father, I must speak with you." Arthur said, interrupting what was no doubt a lecture between Uther and Morgana, given Uther's crossed arms and Morgana's dour expression.

"Arthur! Thank goodness. You mustn't eat or drink anything until I have made sure that no gifts or things sent to your chambers has been poisoned. The same goes for Morgana."

Morgana rolled her eyes wearily and sat down in a large padded chair.

"Father, I know what Merlin is poisoned with."

Morgana's gaze shot up in shock but Uther just blinked vaguely for a moment, clearly taking a long beat to register what his son meant.

"Your servant boy?…" he repeated slowly a questioning look of _why are you troubling me with this now?_ on his face.

"Yes. It was a petal from the Mortaeus flower. The only antidote is a leaf from the very same plant. If I could get it, we could save him. Tonight!"

Uther's eyebrows slid downwards into a frown.

"Where can such a plant be found? I have never heard of such a thing."

Arthur paused a beat, then said, " In the caves beneath the forests of Balor…Now father, I know what you might…"

"Impossible!" Uther interrupted and stormed out of the hall into the passageway. Arthur trailed at his elbow desperately. Morgana went to raise herself from the chair but Uther turned and gave her a stern glare, warning her not to follow them.

"What's the point of having people to taste for you if you're going to get yourself killed anyway?" Uther asked drily, clearly unimpressed as they past through the stone archway.

 _Does he doubt my skill?_

"I won't fail, no matter what you think." Arthur began, but was once more cut off.

"Arthur, you are my only son and heir. I can't risk losing you for the sake of _some serving boy._ "

Those last words were almost hissed out, and Arthur felt a wave of annoyance wash over him.

"Oh, because his life is worthless?" He snapped out.

The words were no sooner out than Arthur wished them unsaid, he hadn't meant that.

His father whipped back around to give Arthur a piercing glare.

"No, because it's worth _less_ than yours." Uther corrected, like a teacher correcting an unruly pupil.

He was correct, technically. The monarchy in order to defend and protect the masses must by necessity have greater power and value. It was a simple game of ratios…, but Arthur shoved that thought aside. That would only matter if he would fail in saving Merlin. It's not like he was offering to trade his life for his servant's, what a ridiculous notion…he knew his capacities and knew his limitations.

"I can save him." Arthur firmly insisted. " Let me take some men-"

 _Father, trust me,_ was the prince's unspoken plea.

"No."

Uther simple shut down reminded Arthur of his childhood, when his father was a mostly unreachable figure. Up until he reached manhood, he felt he barely knew him, to find himself feeling that again after years of progress grated on his nerves.

"We'll find the antidote and bring it back."

 _Father please! Just trust me!_

"No!"

"Why not!? Arthur exasperatedly demanded.

"Because one day I will be dead and Camelot will need a king."

That gave the crown prince pause. His father was right…, was it foolish to risk his life for this? Was he just being a stubborn fool? _No,_ Arthur reminded himself, Gaius gave him information, he had a plan, he was a soldier, he could follow orders. But his father wasn't done lecturing.

"I'm not going to let you jeopardize the future of this kingdom over some fool's errand."

Arthur was defensive as he responded back, "It's not a fool's errand. Gaius says that if we can get the antidote...

"Oh, Gaius says? That's exactly what makes it so."

 _Oh, this again. Not now._

All his life, Arthur had the utmost respect for Gaius, he was wise, calm, gentle. His father had, for the most part, respected Gaius, but there was always this underlying current of distrust or disgust that Uther had when speaking of Gaius. It was subtle, and as a child, Arthur noticed that it only came to the surface when Uther was particularly unguarded. Like when he was emotional…like now.

"Please, Father." Arthur pleaded. "He saved my life. I can't stand by and watch him die."

If Arthur had expected his gentle tone to work on Uther he was disappointed. His father, who had turned his face away in consternation turned back, at first looking at the floor and then raising his eyes to his son in a mixture of scorn and pain. That look froze Arthur where he stood.

"Then don't look. This boy won't be the last to die on your behalf. You're going to be King. It's something you'll have to get used to."

The fear, the respect, the reservations that had been holding Arthur back suddenly disappeared, like a dam had given way and rage came flooding in its place.

"I can't accept that."

Arthur felt pricks of heat under his skin and suddenly felt quite jittery.

"You're not going."

He continued in that same cursed even tone.

"You can't stop me." Arthur challenged, ignoring the fact that he sounded to his own ears like a whining teenage brat once again.

"Damnit, Arthur! That's an end to it! You're not leaving this castle tonight."

Just like that, the cork was back in the bottle, Arthur found that he couldn't bring himself to say anything against his father and just stood swaying as his father swept out of the hall.

 _Damnit! Damnit indeed! He could not disobey his king. But why could not the king see reason!?_

Arthur stood alone in the hall a moment, all of the wind out of his sails. He quite literally did not know what to do. The rapid change of events and consequences felt like a form of whiplash. Should he go see Merlin? No, it would only increase his guilt. Should he go to the dungeons? No, he might strangle Bayard if he saw him. Giving a shout of frustration, Arthur knocked down the weapons hung on the wall nearest him and marched off to his chambers.


	15. Out with the Old

**Author's Note: This scene takes place shortly before the Poisoned Chalice feast of the past two chapters. So, shortly before Arthur shows Merlin his dress robes.**

Arthur stood just on his father's right-hand side, a step behind the throne as he watched the slow progress of nobles march forward. Bayard's treaty with Uther was no small feat, and the size of the gathering nobles proved just that.

For though the great hall was too small for everyone to partake in the signing ceremony and feast, the inner circle would dine inside and the lesser nobles would take their repast in banquet style tables in the courtyard by lantern light.

These lesser nobles were getting their introductions out of the way before Bayard's party arrived, with all the pomp and circumstance that would crowd them out of the way.

Arthur recognized all the usual suspects, and so was happy just musing over thoughts in his head. It crossed his mind that he hadn't moved his face in a while, and the voice of his old tutor floated across the Prince's memory at that moment; "That arrogant smirk you're wearing might get stuck if you don't move it."

Shaking off the memory of his mentor with a grimace of annoyance, Arthur opened his eyes to realize he was looking straight at a face he did not recognize. Or rather, it was not a face he recognized as one of the usual nobles, but it **was** a face he recognized. Underneath the dark brown hair cropped short and the now heavier features, ruddy from time in the sun, Arthur thought he saw...but it couldn't be. Could it? His old friend, Eoin, the closest friend he had ever truly had. Of course, before Arthur ruined it all, got them in trouble and Eoin and his father left the court to take up business at the kingdom in the south.

He looked much as Arthur remembered, dark thick eyebrows pointed down over very keen darting eyes, but the dark complexion was no doubt because his father, Lord Maynard ruled a great farming estate and often was out in the fields overseeing work. The son was preparing to replace the father.

The prince felt a jolt of excitement so keen that it surprised even himself. How old had he been, 12? Over ten years had passed, it should be just a faint memory. But Arthur felt strangely giddy, overjoyed even to see an old friend. He knew he couldn't have friends like a prince, but surely a childhood friend overcomes those barriers.

A few moments later and Eoin Maynard stepped forward, he bowed to King Uther, who extended a hand in greeting.

"Ah, the house of Maynard, we are happy to have you once again in the halls of Camelot," Uther said smoothly.

Arthur realized with a bit of embarrassment that his father was more addressing the royal crest on the young man's tunic, rather than the wearer itself. However, Eoin paid it no mind and bowed once more deeply.

"Thank you Sire, my father sends his regards, but an illness has made it impossible to attend, so I have come in his place."

This made Uther examine the man for the first time his slate-gray eyes flicking up from the crest on the tunic.

"Lord Maynard's eldest boy... ah, of course. Is this your first time at court? I cannot remember. We always welcome fine young men such as yourself here at Camelot."

Eoin's dark eyes flicked up momentarily to Arthur, signifying what...Arthur could not say. _Did he recognize me? Arthur wondered to himself._

 _"_ It has been many years sir, it is my first time at the court since Manhood," Eoin replied with respect, not directly contradicting his liege-lord.

"Well you must speak with my son, Prince Arthur, more knights are always needed for the royal guard," Uther said bemusedly, waving him off to Arthur as the next royal lady approached the throne.

Eoin bowed, spun on his heel and marched to Arthur, who flushed when Eoin went to bow to him.

"My lord..." He said.

"Rise, Eoin, please," Arthur said congenially, but it pained him to realize that Eoin followed the instruction as an order, not as a friendly request. "It is good to see you."

"And I, you, your highness."

Arthur wished to grab his old friend by the forearms and shake him warmly but felt restrained close to his father and the whole watching court.

So he leaned over to the king. "Father, with your permission I am going to take Eoin Maynard to the practicing grounds to talk about the qualifications for knighthood."

A distracted reply and a nod were all Arthur needed to grab Eoin by the elbow and sweep him down the hall. They walked casually in the direction of the training grounds as they spoke.

"Arthur felt he was grinning like a hunting hound but he couldn't hide the absolute joy he felt in seeing his friend again.

"It is so good to see you, Eoin. It's been too long." Arthur said, grabbing his friend by the upper arm.

Eoin strangely did not seem very affected and gave a polite smile as they walked.

"It has been a long time. So many fond memories attached to this place...I am happy to see it again and see if they are accurate."

"So many years have passed, however; I never forgot what happened when we were boys. You cannot imagine how sorry I felt, how much I wished that I had stood up and claimed responsibility."

Eoin laughed lightly, and though he meant it in a comforting way, that sound cut through Arthur like a knife.

"I appreciate that sire, but we were boys. Friendships come and go as children, people drift apart. Surely, it happened more suddenly than most friendships end, but it was bound to happen anyway what with you being a prince and all...I've made new friends, I've had a good life. To be frank sire, I have fond memories of our childhood but till I saw you I had not thought of them these past five years. I don't regret anything, and you should feel no guilt. I know you have had new friendships as well, so there's no need to try to apologize or make it up to me." Eoin gently clapped the prince on the shoulder in a friendly but cold gesture.

The knife twisted deeper. Arthur's friendship to Eoin had not meant the same as his to Arthur's. What was worse, was that all of this was said in a kind and comforting manner, because he thought that the prince had made new friends and memories. Arthur had not forgotten. Could not forget the closest friend he had ever made, a bond that was more real in Arthur's imagination than it had ever been in real life. Arthur felt hollow and empty, his footfalls echoing in his chest as they walked.

Eoin caught the look on Arthur's face and frowned in worry.

"I do not mean to imply, sire, that I was not grieved to leave. I only mean that it is in the past."

Arthur grimaced and then forced a quick smile.

"Well, I know it. I only wished you to feel welcome. Ha, come I will show you that the fields we only played at martial combat have been refitted for training knights. Knights old enough to hold a sword."

Eoin nodded and smiled politely, and with that, they passed out into the courtyard where Arthur felt the old persona of the arrogant and brilliant young prince coming over him. It was easier to fake _that_ than to hide the pain.

The longer they spent together the more Arthur wished for the visit to be cut short. It was too acute of pain, with every familiar look and expression that crossed Eoin's face he was filled with memories, but at every word that escaped his mouth, Arthur was also reminded that he was no longer the same person.

Eoin spoke of his wife and his young daughter with paternal warmth and subdued pride, something which Arthur could not relate to in any way. The young man spoke of his fields and his plans for crop rotations, none of which fascinated Arthur try as he might.

"Arthur!" The sharp and disrespectful address of his servant Merlin instantly brought Arthur to the present. "You told me to remind you of the preparations!"

"Very well! Would it kill you to come over here Merlin? You do not need to alert the whole castle!"

The little head shook indignantly as Arthur saw the tiny figure point his hands on his hips angrily.

"Well, you're shouting!"

"That's because I'm the Prince, Merlin!"

"It's because you're a prat!" Merlin shouted back then ducked back into the castle.

Arthur caught a grin spreading across his face at his servant's impudence, so he turned to face the sun and changed the smile to a squinting grimace. Merlin must not have seen Eoin, else he never would have behaved so out of line before others. Still, Arthur would have to get back at him for that...

"Who was that?"

He saw Eoin had been watching this whole exchange with a somewhat mysterious expression on his face.

"My servant, Merlin. He's an idiot but he saved my life, so I'm stuck with him." Arthur led Eoin back across the grounds to the archway.

"Truly?" Eoin asked critically, stealing glances at Arthur's face as they walked.

"Unfortunately."

"I can understand giving him that station when he saved your life," Eoin pressed, "but even though he's proved such an inconvenience, you still have to keep him around?"

"Indeed," Here Arthur spun and shook his old friend's hand firmly. "Well, it was good to see you again Eoin. I must take my leave now. I hope to see you at the signing ceremony, if not, please be sure to ask for an audience before you return home."

"I will my lord," Eoin said with a bow.

The prince forced a frosty smile on his face and turned around and left.

Eoin watched his retreat with a small flicker of regret and realization, but it too was gone in an instant as he sought to go find his quarters.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed this little interlude in the Poisoned Chalice. I swear it will have some bearing on the Poisoned Chalice storyline. See you all later!**


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